


Libro Amorem

by Diggertron



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-05-02 06:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14538477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diggertron/pseuds/Diggertron
Summary: Marisa and Patchouli realise they have the hots for each other. Should be simple, right?





	1. The Expected Visitor

Patchouli Knowledge frowned and looked up from her book as the hairs on the back of her arm stood up. Someone had entered her library, and set off the magical wards again. Fortunately, it wasn’t anyone she didn’t know. Unfortunately, she knew exactly who it was. 

“Looks like the thieving rat is back,” she muttered to herself, grimacing at the thought, and waved her hand dismissively at the books on her desk, sending them floating back to their neatly ordered positions on the nearby bookshelf. 

She got up from the desk, huffing in annoyance, and floated into the air. Her library was not small, but thanks to her attunement with its magics she would not have to search long for the intruder among the few million books.

Soaring through the rows upon rows of bookshelves, she began drawing on her reserves of magic in preparation for a fight.  _ She was going to win, this time. That book thief had stolen her last book, and she was about to pay with interest when Patchouli finally triumphed over- _

 

“HEY PATCHY!!”

 

The unexpected bellow from her left robbed Patchouli of all her concentration and she found herself careening out of control and into the ground. The intruder winced as Patchouli tumbled along the hardwood flooring before coming to a stop in a crumpled heap. The intruder, Marisa Kirisame, winced. That crash looked like it  _ hurt _ . 

 

Patchouli looked up and glared at said intruder, picking herself up huffily and started to walk away. “Don’t call me “Patchy”. I have a name,” she grumbled.

 

Marisa sighed. “Look, I just wanna have a nice chat, is all.” Patchouli just rolled her eyes. She had no interest in a ‘nice chat’ with a  _ thief _ .

 

“Ah.” She cleared her throat and stopped walking. “Perhaps you should get acquainted with…  _ this!”  _ At her last word, she whirled around, conjuring a blood red spear of energy out of her outstretched hand.

 

“Whoa-!” Exclaimed Marisa, as she ducked under the path of the spear, which sailed down the rows of bookshelves, before the protective magics of the library dismantled it effortlessly. 

 

“Careful, Patchyy-ouli, you could hurt someone with those spears,” she tripped over the nickname, but Patchouli pretended to not notice. The smell of burnt hair begun to fill the area - Patchouli glowered.    
“Heh, guess you got me that time, I must be out of practice,” Marisa nervously laughed, scratching her head.

Patchouli had continued to not notice Marisa, and had floated away over a bookcase. 

 

“Hey wait, I wanna talk to you!” Patchouli flew away faster, prompting Marisa to get back onto her broomstick. “Aw man,” she muttered to herself, “She looks pissed as hell.”

 

Taking off after Patchouli, Marisa noted that Patchouli looked even less pleased to see her than usual. Reimu was right. Marisa  _ had _ been a bit of a dick over the years, but that was exactly what she was here to put right. She just wasn’t sure how. Everything in her told her to just own up to what she’d done and make rights with Patchouli, but apparently the mage didn’t let go of things very easily.

 

“Get  _ out _ of my library, Kirisame.” Patchouli said flatly, without even turning round to look at the witch that had just caught up, “Just leave.”

“Patchouli, I-”

“ _ The Lifecycle of Fairies, volume 4. On the origin of Asgard. Hogwarts: A History.Seventeen Lost Arts in Dark Magic. Resurrection, A Primer. From Merlin to Murphy the Wise, A Timeline of Celtic Sorcery. The Rise and Fall of Atlantis.   _ Do you see the pattern here, Kirisame? All of them are books you think I didn’t notice.”

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“Do you want me to continue? You have stolen precisely seven hundred fifty three books from my library. You have returned none of them. I’ve had enough.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I wanna make it up to you. I’ve been really trying recently. I’m getting better and I want to-”

 

“Oh. So  _ now _ you want to be friends. You know, we’ve known each other for years now. Not once did you show the slightest interest in friendship. You just wanted to make off with a cheap and easy book or seven. Because they were here and you knew my health was too poor to leave the mansion every week to come and bring them back. And then when you finally promise to stop taking them from me, you stop visiting entirely.” Patchouli’s words laced with bitterness and were beginning to become weaker as she struggled to keep her lungs full. Marisa’s heart sank as she looked into the angry librarian.

 

“I can make up for it.” Marisa said. “I’m here now.”

 

“I don’t care. Leave.  _ Zero Element Sign: Reverse Mass.” _

At her last words, Patchouli activated the spellcard she had been gathering energy for. A hole in the fabric of reality opened right where Marisa was hovering hopefully, pulling her to  _ somewhere else _ in Gensokyo, Patchouli cared little for where exactly it was. The air around Marisa rushed past her at a blistering pace, snapping her oversized hat off her head as a bolt of green magic erupted from the hole to strike her broom, disenchanting it entirely. With a sudden lack of flying implement she found herself falling backwards...

  
In a flash, the tear in spacetime closed itself. Marisa was gone again and Patchouli was left alone in her library again. She wiped a tear from her cheek as she struggled to keep her focus long enough to reach the safety of the ground, where she found a comfy armchair and a book to bury herself in.

 

Marisa had been through wormholes before, she had pissed off Yukari more than enough times for that, but this one was completely different to the usual affair. For one thing, instead of displaying Yukari’s apparent fetish for the colour purple, and an unnerving amount of eyes, Patchouli’s spellcard made Marisa feel like she had fallen into an alchemical engine. Complex runes lined the “tunnel” of the wormhole, as cosmic energies of unknowable colour swirled around outside. As soon as Marisa began to be able to appreciate the level of craftsmanship Patchouli had put into her spell, it dumped her unceremoniously onto a polished bamboo floor.

_ Crunch. _

 

“What the shit!?” Marisa heard a startled cry as she scrambled up gingerly, trying to get her bearings after just being chucked through a wormhole. Fuck. Apparently it really wasn’t going to be that easy to try and patch things up with Patchouli. Maybe she really did hate her - Marisa’s heart sank at the thought. It seemed that her “trip” had cause her to pull a muscle in her ankle. Another wonderful addition to her awesome day.

 

In spite of her minor injury and lingering dizziness, Marisa had enough of her wits about her to scope out the area. Wherever she was, the room’s owner was rich. Enormously so. For one thing, the amount of relics from the outside world on display outstripped what Marisa was able to steal in a  _ year _ , let alone obtain legitimately. Walking around the room with her hand trailing on various shelves, she marvelled at the sheer amount of stuff the owner had. There was a  _ PlayStation Three _ here. Marisa didn’t know they came in  _ threes.  _ Combine that with the posters of scantily clad women, magical artifacts from beyond the Earth, and (most importantly) books written millennia ago, and Marisa knew this was the room of someone she wanted to befriend.

 

A fast moving book to the back of her head quickly changed her mind though, causing her mind to ring as it tumbled to the floor. Marisa rubbed the lump that was rapidly forming on her skull as she turned to face her assailant.  _ Oh, shit. _

 

A woman of otherworldly beauty sat in a futon front of her, covered in a  _ Pokémon _ duvet. She seemed to shine with a captivating radiance, and her aura thrummed with immense magical power. Her long, dark hair covered her body, but not the fact that no clothes did.  _ Shiiiiiiit _

“Uhhhhhhh, Hi Kaguya...” Marisa’s signature gusto had left her, she was quite possibly faced with her last 3 minutes of attachment to the mortal realm and she was quite disconcerted by the change. “Didn’t mean to... drop in, had an… argument with Patchy.” Kaguya Houraisan, Princess of Eientei and the Bamboo Forest, didn’t look as nearly displeased to see her as she expected. In fact, she just looked surprised.

“I was  _ literally _ just talking about you,” Kaguya exclaimed, “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I… sorry, what?” Perhaps Marisa was not about to die after all.

“I was just saying to Reisen that we should get you in to do the fireworks, and here you are. Sorry about the book, usually it’s Mokou who comes in unexpectedly. So, how much are you willing to work for? We’ll want a fireworks display for around twenty-three hundred. I want it to be more flashy than what most of Gensokyo is used to, but we’re not wanting to have any accidents.”

 

Marisa was completely nonplussed, and it showed on her face, prompting Kaguya to start from the beginning.

 

“Okay right. So I’m wanting to hold a big festival in a little over a month and I thought it’d be great if we got someone new in to do the firework show. You seem to have a knack for explosions, I’ve heard Eirin’s complaints. We’ll need to negotiate prices and the like but don’t worry about putting yourself out of pocket, I’ll handle the expenses.”  _ That  _ got Marisa’s attention.

“Well you’ve got me thinkin’ now,” she said, scratching her chin, “Thing is, magic don’t exactly like bein’  _ safe _ , and I don’t, neither.” Kaguya started to look a little disappointed, but Marisa, ever eager to blow stuff up, continued. “Tell ya what, gimme a couple days to draw up some plans, talk to a few buds, and I’ll let ya know what’s up then”

 

“Very well, Marisa. I’ll let you leave via my secret escape route, it wouldn’t do to have you be seen leaving my bedroom, especially if no one saw you entering. Oh, keep the book by the way,” she waved vaguely at the book, “think of it as advance payment, and an… apology.” Marisa squinted at the title. It was not written in Japanese.  _ “Natural Fauna on Luna’s Surface,” _ Kaguya explained, “I’m told you and your friends have a thing for books, I wonder how much you can translate.” She smiled. “Now, away with you, Mokou should be here soon.” Marisa opened her mouth to clarify what she meant by  _ that, _ but Kaguya merely winked, waved her hand dismissively and Marisa tumbled out of sight through another wormhole.

 

“Oh come on, does  _ everyone _ have that power today?” Marisa grumbled, before realising she was back at home. Fantastic _. _ She looked at the cover of the book that had been tucked under her arm. “Let’s see… looks completely different to any language I’ve ever seen before. Lunarian perhaps?” Then she opened the book to a random page and her eyes widened. Now translating  _ this _ would be a fantastic project. But, first she had a  _ paid job _ to do. Marisa wasn’t sure what benefit having  _ money _ would bring, since usually she was better at picking stuff up than the previous owners were at keeping hold of it, but there’d be something.

 

The next several hours passed by in a blur, as Marisa worked tirelessly on constructing a single orb of explosive magic that wouldn’t cause any damage its surroundings when it detonated. She wasn’t expecting much luck, as she explained to nobody while she was working. 

“See the thing is,  _ Protective  _ magic is what I wanna be using here, since, as the name implies, it don’t cause any harm. Thing is, it don’t go anywhere either, since otherwise it’ll destabilise. Now  _ destructive _ magic loves going everywhere, but it’s not known for its not-killing-people properties.”

 

“Wow Marisa, that’s so interesting,” said Nobody.

 

“So you see my problem, I gotta reunite two opposing kinda magic, and they ain’t like Yin and Yang, they don’t  _ wanna  _ balance out…” Marisa trailed off, as she realised who she was talking to. Well, not talking to. She got up from her desk and flopped onto her couch in a huff. As much as she liked her work she wanted someone she could share it with. Reimu couldn’t do magical theory. Alice was too busy working on replicating life. Patchouli hated her. Mima was… wherever she was. All the other magicians she knew of were just too  _ dumb. _ Most of them just stumbled across power, they didn’t  _ understand  _ it. Besides, there was a  _ reason  _ this kind of magic hadn’t been attempted, much less studied, before. 

Marisa lay daydreaming for a while before she got up and rubbed her eyes. How long had she been awake for today? She checked the desk for her clock, expecting it to tell her it was around dinner time. The clock refused her request, however, and instead resolutely indicated it was noon. Marisa groaned. No wonder she was tired, not even  _ she _ had stayed awake for  _ fifty-three hours straight _ before. She wanted to take a bath, but she wasn’t overly keen on risking falling asleep and drowning. Some food first, a glass of water, then she should go to bed. 

A crippling wave of tiredness overcame her as she tried to get up, so she gave up, and lay back down, falling asleep instantly.

 

An indeterminable amount of time later, Marisa woke from her dreamless sleep to the sound of a knocking on the door. A lazy check of her protective wards told her it wasn’t anyone hostile, so she waved her hand, not even bothering to get up. 

“I’m over here,” she called, as a pot of hot tea and a pair of mugs floated themselves out of the kitchen. They were followed by a tall woman in blue and white.

 

“Mornin’ Sakuya, want a cuppa?” Marisa gestured vaguely to the tea, which poured itself into the two mugs. Sakuya raised her eyebrow as she caught a whiff of a…  _ special ingredient _ in the tea.

 

“Trying to get me high on the job, are we? I can see through you from a mile away.” Sakuya said with the slightest hint of a smile. Marisa pouted and sat up.

“So this ain’t a social visit then. Whaddaya want?”

 

Sakuya coughed and spoke in a markedly higher class voice than she had before.

“Lady Remilia Scarlet has invited you to attend her Birthday Ball, to commemorate the anniversary of her family’s arrival in Gensokyo. It will take place starting at sundown, five days from now, at her residence of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Please RSVP as soon as possible, and leave your dietary requirements with me in advance. Guests are reminded not to attempt murder this year, and witches called Marisa are  _ firmly _ reminded to not  _ piss everyone off this year that barrel of wine cost thirteen million yen- _ ” Marisa winced at the memory.

Sakuya finished her message and resumed her casual voice. “And please, don’t agitate Patchouli, the poor girl’s had a bad time of it with her illnesses recently.” Marisa looked at the ground in remorse.

“Look, I’ll come, and I’ll be on my best behavior, but Patc-”

“Lovely, and do you have any specific dietary requirements?” Sakuya interrupted her, and was back to being a maid. Her ability to completely change demeanor at will honestly scared Marisa.

“No humans, which is a given, but can you help me, I gotta project that I’m working on and I dunno if I can do it without Patchy, but she’s got major beef with me.”

“Is that why you went round?” Said Sakuya the Normal Woman. She, naturally, had overheard the story of Marisa’s most recent “visit” from one of the Mansion’s many fairy maids.

 

“Nah, when I went I just wanted to piss about and make moving paint, but then I ended up at Eientei, _ dontaskhow, _ and it turns out Kaguya herself had been looking to recruit me for a little magic show.” Sakuya’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. “Trouble is, she wants me to make something  _ flashier _ than my normal dealio, but without killing everyone.”

 

“Can’t you just... make the spellcard not do the dangerous parts?” Marisa grinned at the question, Sakuya may be a highly skilled  _ user _ of magic, but the intricacies of the theory still eluded her.

 

“Heh, nah. That’s what we call a ‘high level’ function, and it ain’t easy to get those into a spellcard. ‘Specially not one  _ this _ complex. Ya see the problem with the spellcard system is that it's just not designed for high intensity burst spells, and then you factor in the heat transfer from all the objects and it’s just a pig to work with. So I’ll need to avoid making a spellcard and go for good old fashioned big dick magic.” 

Sakuya shook her head at the last sentence. Marisa certainly had a way with words. “But yeah, I was working for like 15 hours last night and the best I got was an orb the size of a pea that was bright blue and didn’t melt my face off, but lasted 3 seconds before it fizzled out. Not a great display if you ask me. Next I’m gonna-”

 

“You know what,” Sakuya interjected, “I’ll talk to Patchouli, see if she’s receptive to you working together. No promises though.  _ If you upset her again you will deal with me _ .” she emphasised the last sentence very firmly, indicating towards her thigh which Marisa knew hid a  _ very _ sharp knife.

 

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’ll see her on Saturday. Mind using your scary maid timespace warping mechanics to take some books with you? Show of goodwill on my part, and all.”

 

“Yes, but you owe me one hell of a favour for this.”

“That’s fine.”

“You don’t know what I’ll ask of you.”

“Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Sakuya’s smirked and her eye twinkled ominously.

“I hope so.”

 

Marisa found an old Bag of Holding in her backroom and, with the help of Sakuya, loaded about half of Patchouli’s books. She waved Sakuya out the door, books in tow, and watched her fly out the door. Marisa sighed as she assessed the likely ‘favours’ that Sakuya could call in from her.

 

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh… shit _.” _

 

* * *

  
  


“No! Absolutely Not!” Patchouli’s indignant shout rang out across her library, an hour later. Sakuya had just returned, carrying just shy of four hundred books, and had attempted to convey Marisa’s message. Though, as Sakuya was not a practicing magician, she wasn’t quite able to relay the whole thing properly. Not that Patchouli was in a listening mood. “After all she’s done to our family, you think I’m going to just SIT here and WELCOME her back into my-” 

Patchouli’s lungs ran out of air, and she was reduced to spluttering through her anger. Sakuya stood patiently, noticing an imposing aura approaching from behind.

Lady of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, Remilia Scarlet was hardly the tallest of women, being perpetually trapped in the body of a 12-year-old girl, but the way she dressed, the way she walked, her raw magical power, more than made up for it. That, plus the fact she was a vampire.

 

“Don’t be an asshat, Patchy,” sighed Remilia, as she arrived. “Sakuya, thank you for passing the invitations along. Please, continue with the preparations.”

 

“As you wish, milady.” Sakuya bowed, and winked out of existence. The air rushed into the vacuum she had left behind, causing a violent bang that left ears ringing briefly. 

Patchouli waited for their hearing to come back before talking.

“Please don’t call me-”

“We’ve been calling you by your nickname for nearly two hundred years. Why would we stop now?” Remilia interrupted. “Patchouli, I know that Marisa is easy to hate, but please. This has been going on for far too long.”

“What do you mean? She’s the one that started stealing-”

“And she stopped. Six months ago. You made her promise to stop, and I quote, ‘Being a low-tier, second rate, stealing bitch.’”

“And do you expect her to uphold that?”

“She has up until now. Her coming the other day was merely the latest in a string of attempts to make a friendship. An unorthodox attempt, yes, but an attempt all the same. She may be obnoxious, abrasive, and not very good with the concept of ownership, but look at Reimu. They’ve been close friends for years and she hasn’t killed Marisa yet.”

 

“She came here weekly to steal my stuff.” Patchouli said icily. “And then when she stopped stealing, so did the visits.”

 

“Perhaps she felt she would be unwelcome in a simple social call? You certainly proved that yesterday.”

 

Patchouli looked at the ground as she replied sadly.

“It’s not like I never tried. I  _ wanted  _ to be her friend for so long. She was always coming and going. But never for me. It was just the books she wanted. Always the books. Eventually I just got fed up of it.”

 

“I genuinely believe she has grown up now though, I think you’d be great friends if you tried from scratch. Maybe that’s why she stopped visiting for a while, so you could see the improvement.”

 

“And since when did you see the best in people?”

 

Remilia smiled. “I allowed Gensokyo into my heart. It took me some years to  _ really _ see it, but we don’t need to hide away any longer. We’re safe here. Truly. I think it’s high time the best magician the West had seen in centuries to come back out of her shell.” Patchouli turned faintly pink at the compliment.

 

“Remilia, I know you too well. Your flattery gets you far in life, but you and I both know there were better mages still around even after we hid away. Besides, I’m perfectly comfortable with my books.” Patchouli turned and started to walk away. Remilia lurched forward and grabbed her arm.

 

“At least come to my party, please.” Patchouli still looked hesitant, worried. Remilia’s expression softened. “If it goes to shit you can always slip back later on, I won’t mind.” Patchouli tried her best, but only managed the smallest ghost of a smile. Remilia seemed reassured. “Alright, I’ll see you later. What’re you up to today?”

Patchouli indicated the Bag of Holding clutched in her hand.

“It does seem that Marisa has finally deemed fit to return my books. Well, some of them at least. I assumed the worst when Sakuya came in but…” Remilia nodded, encouraging. “Maybe...I’ll give her a… chance?”

 

“That’s the spirit Patchy!” Remilia called and patted Patchouli’s back. “I’ll see you later!” She took off at a jog and soared into the air.

 

“No flying in the library!” Patchouli called after her.

 

“Bite me!” Remilia challenged, her voice growing fainter from the distance.

 

Patchouli reached into the Bag of Holding. Her hands found a small piece of paper. She pulled out a hastily scribbled note.

 

_ Hey, _

 

_ Sorry I’ve been an arse all these years. I’ll make it up to you properly. _

_ I’ve got a butt-kicking commission job that I wanna collab with, I’ll try and hit you up later. _

 

_ Marisa _

 

Patchouli reached back into the bag and brought out  _ 106 Conversations with Ents.  _ She smiled and set off to put it back in its proper place. To a  _ very  _ close observer, one could pick out the slightest spring in her step.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've had this chapter sat finished for about a month, but it took that long to come up with something to use as a title, and this was the best I could manage...
> 
> I also have a tumblr where I reblog shit I find funny.  
> http://diggertron.tumblr.com/  
> Feel free to say hi whenever you like


	2. Experimentation

**Snap**

“Ouch!”

**Crackle**

“Shit, shit, shit!”

**Bzzzzzzzzzzzz-**  


"Put it out! Put it out!!"

 

Two days later, and Marisa’s little project still hadn’t gotten far off the ground. She had decided on constructing a complex rune to poke around the elements of a single magical bullet. It was a long shot, but she wanted to understand how bullets worked on a fundamental level. Her theory was, that if she were just able to grasp this, she’d be able to invent a whole new branch of non-destructive magic. There was just one small snag, however...  

“Marisa, are you sure that this is even possible?”

“Aw shut up, Alice.” 

“I’m serious, I mean look at this rune.” Alice started to trace a finger above the edge of the rune. “There’s no way that anyone would be able to remember this. It’s six times denser than the intelligence rune in Shanghai and I’m not even sure  _ what  _ this element is,” Alice indicated a line of glowing powder, “And you’ll need to draw  _ thousands  _ of these things, precisely, otherwise your big celebration is going to be a bloodbath.”

Marisa sighed and ran her hand through her hair. She needed a bath, her hair was starting to get gross.

“Look Alice, I just wanna work out how this works, and then I can work on how I fix it. And I’m fairly sure that powder is Radium. Could be wrong though. But like, I know you’re busy and all, but can you-”

“No.” Came Alice’s flat reply. Marisa’s shoulders slumped.

“I get that you’re busy playing god and all, but can’t you at least keep me company? Shit gets awful lonely around here sometimes. All the fairies are shit at conversation, and good luck gettin’ Reimu to do anything that involves leavin’ her shrine for anything less than a big party.”

“I’m sorry Marisa,” Alice put a hand on Marisa’s shoulder, “But I’m not going to be around for a while.”

“You’re leavin’ me? After all this time you’re finally fed up of me?”

Alice scoffed. “As if, Marisa. I’m going to the West. There’s all sorts of fantasy refuges dotted about. I want to see if any of them have cracked artificial life.”

“Heh, Alice in Wonderland,” Marisa chuckled, “Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Sixty-five”

“Huh?”

“That’s the sixty-fifth time you’ve made that joke, Marisa. It almost became funny now I’m finally going.” Alice’s eyes lit up with hope. “I can’t help but feel but my answers are fated to be in Wonderland. But before then, I’m going to make a proper tour of it. Olympus, Asgard, Narnia, then either Camelot, Annwn or Atlantis. Then after Wonderland, we’ll see what happens, I’ll probably come back then”

“Come on, you’ve gotta avoid Atlantis, unless you wanna end up in a mermaid orgy.” Marsia said earnestly, at Alice’s unimpressed look, she continued, “No, seriously. Those bitches  _ love  _ legs. I mean, unless you wanna be surrounded by naked fish, and more power to you if you do, but think of all the old castles and crusty fortresses in Camelot. Something to really get your teeth sunk into!” 

Alice laughed at Marisa’s animated, childlike enthusiasm. “Yes, because what I really want to get my teeth sunk into is  _ stones _ .”

“Sushi bar: The Continent, it is first then. When are you... leavin’?” Marisa tried to play the last sentence off as an afterthought, but a slight waver had gotten into her voice. Alice looked awkward and rubbed the back of her head.

“Ahhhh, I’m actually leaving today. That’s why I came round today, to say goodbye. Yukari’s setting me up with a gap. It was supposed to be in a couple of months but there were issues with sorting out some of my interdimensional Visas, and the schedule had to be bumped up. I-I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t turn out this way.”

“Alice…"

Alice checked her pocket watch, and her eyes bulged. 

“Oh no, I’m running so late. I need to dash.” She flew back into her overcoat. “Please take care of my house while I’m gone, I’ve put up the usual wards but I’ve actually tuned you in for once, please don’t steal everything.”

“I’m not gonna…”

Alice was yanked backwards and out of Marisa’s door by some force (Yukari), leaving the door open and causing the howling wind and rainstorm from outside to be inside too.

Marisa started shaking, whether it was more from the sudden gusts or onset of emotion was anybody’s guess. 

_ One less friend around again. How many real friends do you still have? Three? Two?  _ Nasty voices played around Marisa’s head.  _ One of the only people who likes you for who you really are is Flandre, and she’s not exactly a sound judge of character. _ Marisa stomped towards the door and slammed it shut. She was stuck at home with her least favourite person. Herself. _ You’re going to fail, useless and alone. You’re not enough. Nothing you ever do will be remembered.  _ Marisa sat back at her rune desk.  _ Why are you even trying with this? Even if it was possible  _ **_you_ ** _ can’t do it.  _ Marisa put her head in her hands in frustration.  _ Who are you going to push away next? Who are you going to disappoint? Who’s going to die because of your  _ **_failure_ ** _? _

“FUCK OFF!”

Marisa had thought too much, and swiped her hand out in anger and dejection. Right across the carefully produced rune. It started to spark across the broken lines as the surviving half rune destabilised itself further, before spreading itself over the room, and most of Marisa’s face. Thankfully, the poisonous stuff missed her.

She wanted to cry. She really did. She wanted to cry and rage and smash and pout. She hated feeling alone. She hated how she made herself feel. She hated failing. And she didn’t hate Alice, and she really couldn’t blame her for going out and finding herself and the myriad of answers she was looking for, but there was so much companionship and advice she suddenly realised she was going to sorely miss.

As much as she hated the voice of self-doubt and loathing that dominated her inner monologue, she had to admit it was right. She needed more friends. But it was just so damned  _ hard _ . Her personality was naturally irritating. And as much as she was going to try and cut down on the swearing and stealing, she was just  _ better _ than other people. She’d actually tried to become a better witch, adapted and perfected her craft over her entire life, which was, as she was painfully aware, very mortal. 

She shook her head. She needn’t dwell on this. She’d go and have a bath, grab some tea, and visit Reimu. There she’d either drink her sorrows into the ground or find something better to do.

 

Marisa’s house was a fairly typical English cottage from the countryside. Literally. Her final test when learning about magical transportation was to steal a home intact. The usual target was a fairy tree hollow from the other side of the Forest of Magic, but Marisa’s sights had always been lofty, and she set to making her rune a bit more powerful. That had also been the first time Marisa had pissed off Yukari. In the end, there was no harm done. The English couple that  _ did  _ own the house were successfully integrated into the Human Village, and Marisa got a free house out of it. She then got a few impromptu sessions on using magic to take care of a house, the ‘proper’ way. Thanks to her wards, Marisa never needed to clean or maintain her house. “The mess is intentional,” she’d say to Reimu, “That way no one suspects how many protective charms I have covering the place.”

Of course, this was a complete lie. The cleaning charms simply weren’t designed to deal with the sheer volume of rubbish she had accumulated over the years, and she’d need to make a proper start at some point before the charms would work again. At least the bath still worked.

Marisa ran herself a bath just the way she liked it, hot and bubbly. One of the apothecaries in the Human Village had recently caught wind of the ‘bath bomb’ craze sweeping the Outside World, and was trying to replicate it. She wasn’t quite sure if he knew how explosive they were supposed to be, but these ones weren’t exactly a "bomb". Still, they smelled nice. She removed her clothes, setting them under a heavy cleaning rune. She’d once tried to use a cleaning rune on herself, and felt like she’d been put under a cheese grater for half an hour. Something to do with the water extraction process.

Sinking into the warm, fruity water, Marisa sighed and took a deep breath. Taking a bath had always had the power to take the troubles away. She lay there for a while, letting the water soak over her pale skin. It was a shame she didn’t have anyone to talk to while in the bath, but her reputation had exceeded her far too far for  _ that  _ to be feasible. Her best hope would be to snap up a cute stray that crossed the Hakurei Border before anyone else “warned” them about her. Still, no point worrying about that now. Leaning back into a more comfortable position, Marisa felt herself getting comfy…

And then woke up with a splashing start. She’d fallen asleep. Now  _ that _ was really careless. She had wards in place preventing her head from falling into the water, but not from being seen by anyone who came to visit, and all of her was on display. From how cold the bathwater had got, and the fact the bubbles were completely gone, Marisa reckoned she’d been asleep a couple of hours. She pulled herself out of the water and checked the window. It was dark outside. Too dark to go to Reimu’s, who’d likely be sleeping away. 

Marisa climbed back into her undergarments as she considered what to do. She wasn’t really feeling working on her project for Kaguya, but she really needed to get out of the house for a while and she wanted to go and see someone. She  _ wanted _ to go and see Patchy, but Sakuya’s warning still rung in her ears. More than that, Patchy  _ really _ hadn’t been happy to see her last week. Perhaps forcing her presence on them wasn’t the best of ideas…

 

* * *

 

Meiling gaped at the guest. 

“It’s nearly midnight, and after all these years, you come asking for  _ permission _ to enter?” she said.

“That’s right, I’m on the path of reformation now,” responded Marisa proudly.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Aw come on, what happened to innocent before proven guilty?”

“You were proven guilty. Countless times. For years.” Meiling said with a look of sheer exasperation.

“Look, can’t ya at least ask?”

“And have you break in when my back is turned? What makes you think that I’d be so-”

 

“And what’s going on here?” Sakuya had arrived.

“Do you ever sleep?” Marisa asked, incredulously. Sakuya’s mouth cracked up in the faintest ghost of a smile.

“From time to time. Now, what’s the issue here?”

Marisa sighed, “I was gonna ask if Patchy would accomodate me. I’m bor-”

Sakuya vanished with her signature crack. Meiling jeered triumphantly.

 

“See, told you that you can’t come in. Sakuya won’t even give you the time of-”

 

Sakuya returned with another crack.

 

“I’m to escort you inside. Try anything and you will feel how sharp my knives are.” Sakuya stated with a hard gaze. “I’ll be watching you.”

 

“I’ll be a good girl, just for you,” Marisa winked.

 

“No. Just no.” Sakuya and Meiling said, simultaneously. In an effortless motion, Sakuya pulled a knife from somewhere and pointed it in the direction of the large front door of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. “Go. You first.” she said. Marisa put her hands up innocently.

 

“I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, don’t worry.” Marisa promised, putting her hands up in front of her chest, and began to walk, followed closely by Sakuya.

 

The fifteen minute walk through the mansion was an uneventful one, filled with needless and lavish displays of Remilia’s incredible wealth, in the form of statues, paintings, both of Remilia’s family and other expensive pieces acquired over the years. Then there was the sheer size of the mansion itself, not to mention the expensive hardwood floors and deep crimson wallpaper.

Marisa privately thought that vampires were as allergic to subtlety as they were to sunlight. And another thing, why did this house need to be so damned huge? This part of the corridor had gone at least 400 metres without a doorway or turning or anything. Clearly there were shenanigans at hand. Finally she reached a dead end. Marisa turned around to ask her “tour guide” about the corridor, but she had gone. In fact, Marisa legitimately had no idea where in the mansion she was. 

 

_ Shit. _

 

She was saved from worrying over the decision to go exploring or just sit still when a wall panel opened outwards next to her. Marisa gave a yelp in surprise as Patchouli emerged. She looked apprehensive about something, face pale and wringing her hands as she walked into the corridor.

“Hi Marisa,” Patchouli said faintly. For once she did not seem extremely displeased to see Marisa, who took it as a sign that a friendship could still be established.

“Hey Patchouli, how’ve ya been?”

“Better now that you’ve at least returned some of my books.” A strange look fluttered across Patchouli’s face, a hybrid of annoyance and happiness. “Turns out you can teach an old witch new tricks after all.”

“Well you know me, I’m always learnin’.” Marisa said, pointing her thumb at her chest proudly.

“Congratulations, you’ve almost learnt the foundations required to start Manners 101.” Patchouli said dryly.

“And you’ll be my tutor? Can I get extra credit for returning the rest of your books?”   
“That’s a prerequisite for not failing. Now...” Patchouli gestured into the room she had emerged from, “are you coming in or not?”

 

Marisa walked into Patchouli’s bedroom/private study and her jaw dropped. It was  _ enormous,  _ easily more than half as big as Marisa’s entire house. It was a giant open plan, two-floored room. A giant, 4 metre tall window dominated the wall opposite the door, through which Marisa could see the vast inky blackness of the Misty Lake, and above, the vast infinity of the cosmos. The bottom floor was dedicated to even more bookshelves, most of which buzzed with a combined magical aura so strong that Marisa’s eyes unfocused slightly. 

Patchouli entered her room, crossing over to where Marisa had wandered over to the window. She indicated a nearby cabinet containing various alcohols, teas, coffee beans, and a bottle of something yellowy-orange that was clearly from the Outside World and proudly calling itself  _ Tropical Krush Double Strength!!! _

“Want anything to drink? Black tea, green tea?”

“What is that?” asked Marisa, pointing at the bottle of yellow stuff. Patchouli picked it up.

“Oh this? It’s squash.

“Squash?”

“Yes, that’s what it’s called. Be ready though, it’s a bit of an acquired taste”

She poured out two small glasses and passed one to Marisa, who took a swig and immediately pulled a face.

“Yuck, this tastes fake, what’s it made of?”

“Fake.” Said Patchouli in an utterly flat tone.

“Ah well, I guess I haven’t acquired the taste for it yet then,” Marisa laughed, and winced. “Aghh, this room is buzzing my head off, can’t you turn it off?”

“I’ll tune you into the room, but I’ll need to, uhh, t-touch your t-temples.” Patchouli’s words tried to carry an air of confidence, but were betrayed by the waver in her tone. 

“Sure, go ahead, I’m always open to the delicate touch of a woman.” Marisa joked, and Patchouli turned as red as a tomato.

“I- um- Anyway,” Patchouli took a breath to regain her composure and applied her shaking hands to either side of Marisa’s forehead and took a long, deep breath. They both closed their eyes and Patchouli muttered a long incantation in a language Marisa had never heard before.  _ Perhaps one of the European languages?  _

 

As soon as Patchouli finished her incantation, Marisa felt a warm feeling creep down her body and spirit, pushing out the magical resonance causing the buzzing. She opened her eyes again to find Patchouli’s face still in deep concentration. She found herself struck by how different Patchouli’s face looked when not set in anger, and it was a nice change. Her deep purple hair flowed past her soft cheeks, collected in two bunches by a red and a blue bow in front of her, while the rest of her hair was swept behind her back. Was something about Patchouli’s presence suddenly intensely comforting, or had she just been starved of close attention for too long? When was the last time she had slept with someone, anyway?

Patchouli had finished her incantation and opened her eyes to find Marisa gazing intensely at her face. She immediately felt self-conscious. Was there something on her face? Had she left a coffee stain on her lips? She sincerely hoped she wasn’t smelly, or that her clothes were dirty. She hadn’t expected inviting Marisa round to be this stressful, and she hadn’t even  _ started _ worrying about the state of her room or that Marisa might hate it or that it was all a lie and Marisa was just going to steal even more valuable books and then-

“Patchouli, are you okay?” Marisa’s words cut through her thoughts like a knife through butter. She took a deep breath, and walked back a couple steps. 

“I’m fine,” she lied, “Aura linking just sets me on edge, that’s all.”

“Wait, why’d you link our auras just because I was in here?”

“If you touched any books in here without it, you’d know what it felt like to become a gas cloud.  _ Intimately.”  _ Patchouli’s voice had sharpened to a point by the last word.

Marisa laughed nervously, “Gee Patchy, you don’t fuck around do you?” Patchouli’s gaze darkened.

“You aren’t the first to crave information on the arcane arts. You have the good fortune to live in the least violent time in recorded magical history since the Lunarians left Earth. The story of magic is also the story of some of the most bloodthirsty abominations. I lived in Europe through the entire twentieth century. The death count then was as nothing compared to the potential contained within these books. You are allowed in here not because I have a particular trust for you, but because you are far too innocent to truly understand the things written in here.”

Marisa was impressed, but unflustered. She, too, had seen things beyond words in her short life. Being an apprentice to the great Mima tended to give access to these things. She didn’t like to boast about that, though. It seemed unsporting. But she could give hints.

“Sooo,” Marisa said, casually stretching her arms into the air, “Ya know how to make a Horcrux?”

The effect was immediate. Patchouli’s composure broke instantly. All colour drained from Patchouli’s face. And eyes. Her hair even seemed like it dulled down. Her legs started to shake and she plopped down into a nearby chair, somehow not spilling any of her drink.

“No… They can’t know about them. Not here. Not Gensokyo too.” Patchouli muttered to herself, and Marisa felt  _ awful. _ She hadn’t expected this bad a reaction. It was just soul containment, right? The method wasn’t that much worse-

“I-I’m sorry Patchy, I didn’t mean to upset-” Marisa started, but upon seeing Patchouli look up at her with watering eyes made the words die in her throat.

“Then you know of the dark depths that magicians stoop to in the interest of power. I’ll tell you now,  _ Magick Moste Evile _ is one of the few books in here that is  _ not _ specially protected. I hope, for your sake, that a mere horcrux is the worst magical artifact you ever come across. You could create something with the potential of a nuclear bomb using, in theory, less dangerous magic.” 

Marisa gulped. A slight faux pas here. Perhaps lying was, for now, a better option.

“Okay okay, I don’t wanna hear about the rest. You’ve already terrified me enough today, I only came for a fun social visit,” Marisa declared, hands in the air. 

Patchouli didn’t seem at all convinced, but was keen to accept the change in conversation.

“So anyway, Sakuya told me you were stumped on something magical?”

Marisa laughed. 

“Well I wouldn’t exactly say  _ stumped _ , but the long and short of it is, I got meself a job.” Patchouli raised an eyebrow at Marisa, who barreled on. “So last time you threw be into a wormhole and it spat me out into, where else but only Kaguya’s bedroom,” Patchouli inhaled the last of her squash, “And yeah she was in the buff, but I didn’t get to see anything fun-” Patchouli spluttered the contents of her lungs back out of her mouth, but was saved from making a good mess of her rug by a protective enchantment. Her airways were not so lucky, and she was reduced to a wheezing mess in her chair. 

Marisa waited patiently for Patchouli to regain full control over her body as she gestured a wordless incantation over her chest. She took a brief shaky breath, and indicated for Marisa to continue.

“So anyway, Kaguya’s naked body asked me to build up a magical fireworks show for some festival they’re doing soon, and in the week since then I’ve been trying to make shooty death magic that doesn’t actually kill ya.”

Patchouli held an unimpressed stare at Marisa.

“So this ‘totally sweet’ project you’re working on is literally just a light show.”

“Nahhh. Well, yeah, technically I guess you might say that it is. But then I got to thinking, Kaguya wants a really flashy and impressive show, and is willing to throw money at me for it. Maybe I could do something more with this. So I’m thinking, maybe I could make use of that and do some real research.”   
  
“Real research? You’re making a light show.”   
  
“No no no, I could do a simple lightshow easily. But makin’ Master Spark safe? That’s an entire different kettle of fish. The only reason Sparkin’ a human doesn’t kill ‘em is ‘cause of the Hakurei Field. I reckon if you were to harm enough people at one you’d drain it and you’d risk Gensokyo falling back into the real world. Explosively so.”

“Wait, what’s the Hakurei Field?”

“Right, so you know how Gensokyo is protected from the real world by the Hakurei Border?”

“Naturally.”

“Well it turns out, that ain’t the whole story. It looks like the first Hakurei of Gensokyo was actually an exceptionally powerful mage in her own right, and created an energy field to sustain Gensokyo’s separation from the rest of the world. This energy field shields youkai from the degenerative effects of a lack of faith, whilst simultaneously granting just enough power to humans for them to have a reasonable chance of surviving an attack. Then somewhere down the line the spellcard system comes along, and as long as you didn’t have the  _ intent _ to cause harm, the Hakurei Field would sustain the life of your spellcard’s target. I dunno what the limit of the Field is itself, but I’m never fuckin’ with it in my life.”

“Huh. That’s simultaneously interesting and terrifying. So what sustains the energy flow? Reimu?”   
  
“See I thought that too, but it turns out that she has nothing to do with it, save being descended from the first shrine maiden. It turns out that things that end up spirited away into Gensokyo are what replenishes the energy, or more specifically the residual faith and emotional energy in an object. Every now and again Yukari will nab a person or two, just to keep everything topped up.”

“And you want to make spells that don’t drain the Hakurei Field? Where did you learn about all this?” Patchouli was starting to think that maybe Marisa actually had some good ideas under her hat.

“Hah, bingo. And it was in a book of Miiiyyy master’s,” Marisa tripped over mentioning exactly  _ who _ the book belonged to, “turns out they were a cousin of old Hakurei, and helped out with some of the more complex aspects of creating a huge magic field.”

Patchouli’s eyes narrowed a fraction of a millimetre at the close evasion of who exactly Marisa’s tutor was, which was still a fact that had eluded her all these years, but decided to leave that subject for another time, as the ghost of a memory tugged at her brain. She was  _ sure  _ she had a book or seventeen in the library on the topic of pacifist combat sorcery. 

“Koa!” Patchouli called as she grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from thin air and started scribbling something on the paper.

“What can I do for you, mistress?” Koakuma entered Patchouli’s room and her eyes widened slightly as she caught sight of Marisa, but took it in her stride.

“Get these books for me, would you,” Patchouli thrust the paper at Koakuma, “and a pot of tea, Earl Grey.”

“As you wish, mistress,” Koakuma bowed low and walked back out of the room.

 

“It must help ya self esteem,” Marisa chuckled as Koakuma shut the door behind her, “to have a cute girl address you so reverently.”

“What do you mean? She’s soulbound to obey my commands, of course she addresses me so.”

“Nah, I’ve seen the way she looks at you, she’d serve you willingly if she was able to.”

“Are you trying to suggest something? You are aware of how soulbound demon summons work, right?” Patchouli said, a little touchy. 

“Yeah yeah, I get it,” Marisa grinned, “You really are similar, aren’t ya? Bookish, damn cute, never leave your library, hard to talk to about anything other than your passions-”

“Waiwaiwait, what was that second one?” Patchouli had turned red at Marisa’s words. Marisa winked.

“Ain’t no shame in finding a girl cute. Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’m your type anyway. I mean, for a start, I ain’t made of parchment and covered in ink.”

“Oh...” Patchouli said quietly, and picked a book at random to float off the shelves towards her, before burying herself behind it. Marisa’s smile faded. Was she that good at fucking up, that it just came naturally to her? Her ability to take a good conversation and run it into the ground was, perhaps, unparalleled in all of Gensokyo.

 

A lump formed in Marisa’s throat. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words simply wouldn’t form on Marisa’s tongue. The silence was oppressive, sitting on Marisa’s lap with the weight of a dragon. For all of her experience in meeting the many people of Gensokyo, she had no idea how to work herself out of this mess. So she sat in awkward silence for several years (actually it was 143 seconds) before, mercifully, Koakuma came back, laden with books.

“I have the books for you mistress…” Koakuma’s cheery voice faltered slightly as she walked into the room and saw the scene. She placed the books gently next to Patchouli’s chair and awkwardly patted her shoulder, before treating Marisa to a strong glare, and nodding back to the door. Taking the hint, Marisa followed her out of the room, catching a glance the side of Patchouli’s face out the corner of her eye.

A face covered in silent tears.

 

“Look,” Marisa said quietly, in a rare display of apology, once Patchouli’s door had slammed shut behind them, “I know I messed up-”

Koakuma could barely manage more than an angry whisper. 

“Messed up?  _ Messed up _ ? We let you in to help Patchy, not mess her around more.”

“I’m trying here, you’ve gotta cut me some slack, I ain’t exactly had the best of role models-”

“ _ Role models?”  _ Koakuma hissed. “I am literally a demon from  _ hell _ and you want to talk to  _ me _ about role models. You might get away with being an insufferable arse with the rest of Gensokyo but I will not stand here and have you insult my mistress-”

“Hey, who said I insulted her?” Marisa shot back, angry. “I distinctly remember a lack of  _ you _ in that room, and for the record, all I said was that she was cute, the conversation had been going swimmingly until then.”

Koakuma groaned and put her face in a palm.

“Ah jeez, tell me you didn’t,” she groaned to herself. She took a deep breath before looking at Marisa again. “Okay. I’m sorry. Not your fault, I was wrong to jump to a conclusion so quick.”

Marisa’s anger turned to concern.

“Hey is everything alright, you know I didn’t mean to upset her, right?”

Koakuma looked down the incredibly long hallway of the Scarlet Devil Mansion.

“Patchouli can be … delicate, when it comes to matter of the heart. It’s really not my place to talk about it. Like I said, if you truly didn’t mean to upset her, it’s not your fault, but I can’t say it wasn’t a massive misstep.”

“Should I go back in and say-”

“No!”

Marisa had turned towards the door, but Koakuma grabbed her hand and pulled her back around with a surprising amount of force. “It’s best if I sort her out, you should head home for now. Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.”

Marisa looked crestfallen. She was quiet for a few moments before mumbling.

“I mean you’re the expert.”

“Don’t worry, the party’s tomorrow afternoon. If Patchouli shows up I’m sure she’ll be fine for talking.”

“Oh shoot I forgot about that, I’d better get some shuteye and oh  _ fuck it all I left fuckin’ Radium all over my fuckin’ sofa. _ ”

Marisa tore off down the corridor, not much slower than Mach 1. Koakuma smiled and spoke quietly down the hall after her, not that the words could ever reach her.

 

“Goodnight Marisa, I hope you can get through to her one day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moral of this story is to always remember to clean up radioactive powder before you leave the house.


	3. In warm water

Reimu pounded on the front door of Marisa’s house as she shouted through the letterbox.

“Come on, you jerk. If I’m late because of you, you’re getting a gohei in your butt!” 

It wasn’t the most dignified that the Hakurei shrine maiden had been, it had to be said, and the feeling was made worse as she heard the snickering of high pitched voices behind her.

_ “I saw Reimu’s pan-ties, I saw Reimu’s pan-ties!”  _ Lower fairies were as well known for their subtlety as their intelligence, and Reimu didn’t even look around as she vaporised them with a blossom of talismans from her hand.

“Marisa I’m being embarrassed by damned fairies here and it’s all your fau-”

“‘Sup Reimu.” Marisa’s door swung open. “Hope the fairies took a good look at your butt there.” Marisa’s voice was croakier than a frog’s after a week of opera.

Reimu straightened up and her eyes boggled as she saw her best friend. She looked  _ dreadful.  _ Her eyes were bloodshot and baggy, her hair was a straggly mess, much like a typical witch’s depiction, and her aura was filled with malaise. She didn’t need to be an expert to know that Marisa’s night had been filled with booze, potion brewing, probably weed, and a complete lack of sleeping.

Well, Reimu was an expert in Marisa Care, after all.

“I take it that you didn’t have a good night then,” Reimu said tactfully, partially regretting her tone at the closed door. Only partially though, she was still mad about the fairies.

“Eh, it was okay. Went to see Patchy and-” all colour drained from Marisa’s face. “Oh.  _ fuck _ . How late are we?”

Reimu smiled wryly. Luckily she’d planned for this.

“If we left now, we’d be two hours early.”

Marisa let out a moan of relief.

“Oh Reimu, you’re a lifesaver. I’d kiss you if you were into girls.”

Reimu laughed.

“If I were into girls, you bet I’d choose someone able to look after themselves better than the likes of you. Now come on, to the bathroom with your smelly ass.”

“My ass is just about the only thing that isn’t smelly around here, and you can bite it,” grumbled Marisa as she let Reimu enter the front door. “Tea, Reimu?”

“Bath first, then maybe we’ll think about tea. Your hair’s a damned mess.”

 

Marisa dashed up the stairs to run the bath while Reimu scanned the ground floor of her house. Reimu thought that Marisa definitely seemed to be making at least  _ some _ effort in sorting out her life, there were a few less books cluttering up the “dining” room, and the kitchen almost looked like a place to prepare food. Almost. There was still an overabundance of potion ingredients that were almost certainly lethal, but at least they were in bottles now. Marisa’s tendency to abuse substances was still just as bad as ever, though. Vials of hallucinogenic mushroom extract lay empty and discarded, as did countless other bottles and containers, half of which Reimu didn't even recognise. 

Reimu sighed as she walked past Marisa’s armchair, which was still covered with a blanket and pillows. Evidently someone hadn’t made it to bed.

“Yo Reimu!” Marisa’s loud voice came sailing from upstairs, sounding somewhat embarrassed. “I, uh, need a bit of a hand!”

 

Reimu walked up the stairs to the bathroom, bracing herself for what she was about to find. She opened the door and let out a shriek of mirth. Marisa had got into the bath and it looked like she had tried to brush her hair. Unfortunately for her, her hair was such a tangled mess that she’d managed to tangle her brush entirely. And in trying to free the brush, tangled her left arm as well. She looked incredibly sheepish, and Reimu found herself wishing she had one of those camera things that Sanae always took around with her.

While Reimu had been embarrassed with the recent incident with the fairies, seeing Marisa bare all in the bath left her completely unfazed. They’d been friends for so many years, they barely had room for secrets anymore, not to mention the fact that it was just a  _ bath,  _ hardly anything like the first time Marisa got drunk one winter and decided to make a snow angel, didn’t want to get her clothes wet, and took the  _ “only logical option”. _ Or the eleventh time, for that matter.

“Oh Marisa, there’s never a dull moment with you, is there?” Reimu tutted, and moved over to extricate Marisa from herself.

“I try and sort myself out for once and this is what happens. This is why self-care isn’t my schtick Reimu, I was proud at myself for actually remembering to clean up that Radium last night, and I’d have died if I didn’t.” Marisa complained, only three-quarters joking, and winced as Reimu accidentally tugged on a chunk of her hair.

“The more you practice, the easier it gets,” chided Reimu, feeling more and more like the parent of an eight-year-old boy, and completely missing how dangerous radioactive powders were. “You want to look nice for Remi’s party, don’t you?”

“I don’t care about looking ‘nice’, I care about looking ‘me’,” Marisa said as Reimu finally freed her hand, and set to work on the brush.

“Those things aren’t mutually exclusive, you can look nice while still being you, Marisa. It’ll help you win the ladies.”

“If the ladies wanted me when I was nice, they’d want me when I was me,” pouted Marisa.

Reimu gently bopped Marisa on the head with the hairbrush, finally released from its prison.

“The goal is to tip them head over heels for you. Make the extra effort so that special someone thinks you care about them-” Marisa interrupted Reimu by turning around, an incredulous look on her face.

“Wait hold on, when the fuck did  _ you _ become Miss Dating Guru, Reimu  _ ‘I didn’t know what sex was until I was seventeen and Yukari was drunk and gapped in four men to get the family tree growing’ _ Hakurei?” Reimu turned a deep shade of red at the memory, “Because you can’t go around telling me how to get laid if you have no experience either.”

“Okay you got me,” Reimu laughed, “To be honest, I was just regurgitating information Sanae gave me from one of those Outside World newspapers she gets, but I think it’s still valid, considering it’s just common sense.”

“Third-hand information. Gross.” Marisa turned back around and Reimu set to work attacking the nest of hair in front of her. “Ouch! Damn it Reimu with the brush,” she hissed.

“Look, if you want to look hot you’ll go through this evil.”

“And who says I want to look hot?” Marisa snorted.

“Weren’t you drunkenly confessing to me just last month that you needed a soft girl to cuddle?”   
  
“Hey, leave Drunk Marisa out of this, that bitch ain’t here.”

“Aww, is my little Marisa dealing with feelings, ” Reimu teased, before turning serious. “Look, I don’t mind doing what I can for you, and the gods know how much you’ve done for me over the years, but I can’t help but worry for you,” Marisa tensed up, “I know what you’re like when you’re by yourself for too long, I saw the state of the kitchen.”

“Butt out of it, armpits.” Marisa grunted.

“Oh no, you’re not wriggling away from the emotions now. Marisa, you’re my best friend and I can tell from a billion miles away if you’re upset about something.”

“Upset? I’m not upset. Like, I’m happy that Alice is finally going exploring in her grand old quest to create artificial life, and, yeah It’s a bummer that my neighbour’s gone but we’ve not spoken much anyway, we both got busy with our own shit, ya know? And then there’s the fact that I signed on to do a big light show for Kaguya but then I ended up being all like ‘wow I could do something really cool for this’ and got way into magical theory over it, and then I went to go see Patchy and we were getting on alright, but I said a couple of wrong things and then I felt like shit. So I come home and start doubting myself, like, did Mima really fuck me up that badly? Am I just a shitty person? Sure I can do some sick magic tricks, but was it worth it? What did I miss out on the way?” Marisa’s voice had become little more than a whisper, and Reimu let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding through Marisa’s monologue.

 

Marisa took a shaky breath and said, “wow, guess I am upset after all. Huh.”

Reimu patted Marisa’s shoulder, which was starting to dry from how long Marisa had been sitting up.

“It’s okay. I’m here for you to talk it through if you need it.”

“I just- look, am I just a shitty person?” Marisa’s voice was filled with uncertainty and bitterness.

“Bad people don’t spend time worrying if they’re bad, Marisa. They just are.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Marisa sighed, “It’s hard to take, ya know? After years of being told I’m an irritating little shit, I try and behave and it just goes wrong anyways.”

“I understand, but it’s like I said, practice makes perfect. You’ve just got to make sure the others understand you’re trying. And not just by telling them,” she cut off Marisa before she could interrupt, “they need to  _ see _ that you’re trying.”

Marisa was pensive for a moment, before speaking up.

“But what if-”

“And you don’t beat yourself up,” Reimu interrupted, “if you mess up. Making a mistake is natural, but the correct thing to do is learn from it and move on, without dwelling on one mistake all evening.”

“Are you chastising me for all the shit I put in my body last night?” Marisa asked, sheepish.

“Of course I am,” Reimu bopped her on the head with the brush again, “you took all the good stuff for yourself!”

“You mean the mushrooms?”   
  
“No, you idiot, the sake. Didn’t that one bottle cost ten thousand yen?”

“Twelve, actually.” Marisa said proudly, to Reimu’s dismay.

“I’m hurt Marisa, you told me that I was your only drinking buddy.”

“Actually, I said you were my first,” Marisa teased, “and that you should be gentle with me.”

Reimu sighed, in mock-frustration.

“If you don’t stop making everything lewd,” she warned, “I’ll mess your hair up.” 

Marisa chuckled quietly to herself, and the pair fell into comfortable silence. As Reimu groomed her friend’s hair, she reflected on just how much she  _ loved _ Marisa. Not love in a romantic sense. No, they’d tried that when they were in their mid-teenage years, almost a lifetime ago. What Reimu felt was deeper than that, almost as close as the bond between twin siblings. They were Yin and Yang, Marisa’s loud exuberance in perfect contrast to Reimu’s quiet thoughtfulness. Well, minus when there was an incident. Then Reimu just tore everything up. 

 

Reimu tugged one last tangle of hair apart, and started going over Marisa’s hair one last time.

“So,” she said mischievously, “got your eye on anyone?”

“Oh no, don’t you start this with me Reimu. You first,” Marisa said.

“I’ll tell if you do.”

“So you DO have someone in your sights!” Marisa exclaimed. “Who is it? Do I know him? What does he do for a job?”

“Marisa…”

“Aw come on Reimu. You just dropped yourself in that. Hard. Don’t think I don’t know you like the back of my hand.”

“Ahhh,” Reimu hesitated. She trusted Marisa, but it always felt weird to say it aloud. She took a breath. “Okay. He’s just a normal human-”

“Laaaaaammmmmmmeeeeeee.” Marisa drawled, teasing. Reimu checked over her hair one last time, and was satisfied with her work for now.

“He’s a normal human, but he can look after himself. He’s one of those traders that go between the Human Village and some of the minor youkai settlements close by. We’re going on a date next week.”

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH” Marisa cheered, standing up out of the bath to grasp Reimu by the shoulders. “YESSSS, GO YOU!!” Reimu yelped in surprise as a mass of water followed Marisa’s body to drench her legs and the surrounding floor. “Whoops, my bad,” Marisa said, muttering a quick incantation to cause the water to jump back into the bath from the floor. “So anyway, who is he?”

Reimu coughed.

“Put some clothes back on and I’ll tell you. No not those ones,” she interjected, as Marisa had stepped out of the bath and knelt down to put her normal clothes back on. “Come on, you  _ have _ to have something else to wear in your house for once.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” retorted Marisa, noting her usual shrine maiden outfit. 

“Yes, but the difference is I actually wear other clothes sometimes. Not to mention, this  _ is _ my formal wear.”

Marisa merely grunted and walked back into her bedroom, not bothering to cover herself first. This was her house, after all. She pulled open her wardrobe and called back to Reimu.

“See, there’s nothing here at all-” 

“What about that outfit there?” Reimu had followed her, and was indicating some clothes that Marisa had nicked from Rinnosuke. 

“Yeah, that could work. Let’s find out.”

Marisa pulled on matching underwear, which were a deep blue, close to a late evening sky, with small multicoloured stars that Marisa had enchanted on one year as a bet, before covering up with a combo of a black top and small thigh-length skirt. She completed her outfit with a woolen knitted cardigan, which was banded in a rainbow pattern down the garment. Red at the top, violet at the bottom. The front was held together by a single oversized button just above her navel.

 

“Well? How do I look?” asked Marisa as she pulled on some kneesocks. These kneesocks were also enchanted, but this time with a design of the cosmos that lazily moved around at a gentle pace.

“You look great! But uh… why are your socks moving, they look like that screen at the Moriya Shrine when no one's doing anything with it.”

“Made these bad boys myself!” Marisa said proudly, as the Andromeda Galaxy sailed across her shin, and out of sight. “Space is cool, and wearing having socks with moving pictures is even cooler,” Marisa asserted, “You should try living the Rule of Cool like me!”

Reimu smirked.

“I think I’m fine with the Rule of Washing Myself Every Day, thanks.”

Marisa flipped Reimu the bird.

“I washed yesterday too. Anyway, I’m dressed now, who’s the date?”

“Uhh…” Reimu steeled herself to give the final answer, it felt heavy to actually vocalise it, like she was committing in some more binding way than when she had just agreed to the date in the first place.

“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tellmetellmetellme,” Marisa pressed, ever the calm one.

“Okay, Okay,” Reimu said, turning pink at Marisa’s excitement, “It’s Kaito.” Marisa turned thoughtful as she tried to recall the name.

“Kaito… Kaito… I remember him. Was he the one we saw at that Winter Party a couple years ago? I think I snogged his sister.” Reimu’s lack of surprise was matched only by her lack of wealth, and it showed on her face. “Yeah, I think it was her! You’re in for a good time Reimu, if those kissing skills are genetic somehow…” Reimu noticed something as Marisa trailed off. “A-anyway, how’s the time doing? Don’t wanna be late! Are we picking him up on the way round?”

Reimu sighed. Marisa was getting upset again.

“Marisa.” Reimu cut through Marisa’s façade with her flat tone. “You do know you’re not getting replaced by him, even if it does work out well.”

“I-I-” Marisa stammered.

Reimu closed the distance to Marisa and pulled her into a tight hug.

“This doesn’t change anything, and you will always be my best friend.” she said quietly, gently, into Marisa’s ear. “If you ever need anything, at any time, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks Reimu,” Marisa whispered. They parted. Marisa wiped her eye. “Gods, I’ve been properly fucked up lately,” Marisa admitted, more to herself than Reimu, “What’s gotten into me?”

Reimu fixed her with an analytical gaze.

“I think you’re hurting more than you let on. You need someone to come back to every night, not just someone you can have a wild few hours with and never speak to again.” Reimu said, and Marisa shrugged. “Look, One Night Stands can be great and all, but you need to admit to yourself they’re not what you want anymore.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Marisa sighed, “Even when I go for something more, that’s all I get. No one wants the real Marisa Kirisame for any longer.”

“You’re putting yourself down too much, you have plenty of long-term friends,”

Marisa snorted. 

“It’s true!” Reimu pressed on, “Look, maybe you just haven’t given the signal to the right girl yet. Okay, is there anyone going to the party that you like?” 

Marisa grimaced.

“Okay, promise not to laugh?” Marisa asked. Reimu nodded. “Okay, well, the truth is… I don’t actually know.” Marisa looked crestfallen. “It’s been so long since I actually thought about someone romantically that I’ve forgotten if I can. Best I can do is a one-night stand and then ghost them. I don’t even mean to do it.”

“Perhaps you should try dating someone you already know? That way you’ll still have a reason to see them anyway.” Reimu thought through Marisa’s list of regular contacts. “What about… Alice?” Reimu asked tentatively. She had never been quite sure on their relationship over the years, as much as she knew everything else about Marisa. Marisa sighed in response.

“Man, I dunno about Alice. We’re close, but we just get on each other’s nerves for too long and too often. I get the feeling she’s not one for, uh, ‘bedtime’,” Marisa emphasised her point with air quotes, “as much as I am.” She scratched the back of her head absently, “Not that I mind about that, but I always felt like things like that would end up blown out of proportion with her. Like how she always rags on me for tidying my house, when I know perfectly well where everything is so that counts as tidy in my book-” She stopped herself, and took a breath. “Anyway, love or no love, that ship’s sailed. She’s left Gensokyo to explore the mysteries of life in Europe.”

“Ah…” Reimu faltered awkwardly. She patted Marisa on the shoulder. “That’s a damn shame. I take it that’s why you’ve been feeling shitty?”

“I guess.” Marisa sighed.

“Well, what about Patchouli? You’re always going to her library.” Marisa actually cringed at Reimu’s words, a look of genuine remorse plastered across her face.

“Ahh fuck, Reimu, I dunno. I wanna be her friend but I’m worried even that ship’s sailed. I was doing some meditatin’ last night-”

“Getting stoned,” Reimu corrected.

“Fuck off,” Marisa replied without skipping a beat, “and I was thinkin’ about Patchy. Thinkin’ about the past. All those books I stole, and sometimes I barely even looked at her. How could she not hate me-  _ I’m not being self-loathing, just reflective- _ ” She talked over the unspoken retort from Reimu, “But she seems interested in friendship at least. I don’t know how close we’ll end up gettin’, but I will say this now,” Marisa’s expression turned, her familiar wild energy returning, “She’s pretty cute, and I wouldn’t feel any shame in pointin’ that out to her, but I’ve got a present for her,” she indicated a package that was sat on the foot of her bed, “and I reckon she’ll like it. It’s a  _ very _ rare book. We’ll take the friendship from there.”

 

“Well, no point sitting here thinking about what she thinks of your gift, we could just go there and find out!” Reimu said, the excitement of the night ahead creeping back into her face. “And if there’s any cute girls with a lonely heart, she will find herself face to face with the one and only Marisa Kirisame, the greatest magician this side of the Sea of Japan!”

Marisa felt Reimu’s enthusiasm, and found it infectious. 

“Hey, don’t forget her wingman, Reimu Hakurei, the first shrine maiden to beat up a goddess with nothing but a plastic shoe and a grapefruit-”

“Oi!” Reimu interjected, “we won’t tell them about that story.”

They laughed, and made their way back out of Marisa’s house, accompanied by Marisa’s broom, which Marisa stood on like a surfboard.

“Right, let’s go!” Marisa cheered, having clearly repressed all of her negative emotions into a rickety old cage. Again. “To drinkin’, food, and girls!”

 

They rose into the air, and shot off in the direction of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Gensokyo’s rolling fields flew underneath them, interspersed with the occasional fairy den. The late afternoon sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, not quite low enough to cause a problem yet,but navigation would certainly be an issue in an hour or so. They spent the first half of the journey in companionable silence, each of them thinking their own thoughts-

“FUUUUUUUUCK!” Marisa swore loudly, causing Reimu to jump in her skin and let out a little yelp. So much for the silence. She stopped flying, and Reimu turned to ask what the problem was.

“I left my hat at home!” She moaned in frustration. She looked behind herself, as if to gauge how long it would take to get back home again. “How much time do we have?”

Reimu looked at the position of the sun. No use in convincing Marisa she didn’t need her hat, Marisa took going Hatless very seriously, and it was a point of sore embarrassment for her to even admit she had forgotten it.

“If you head back now, you’ll still get there right on time.” Marisa sighed in relief.

“Oh Reimu, you’re a lifesaver. I swear, I will get my shit in order as a personal thank you.”

“It’s fine,” Reimu laughed,  “If you want to head back, head back. I’ll go ahead and let them know you’re running a bit late.”

Marisa nodded.

“Thanks Reimu, you’re a lifesaver.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, for someone who I said doesn't bath every day, that's flown out the window when Marisa takes a bath twice in two days.


	4. We're updating our privacy policy

Patchouli woke up, feeling surprisingly refreshed considering how early in the day it was. She sat up, pushing her hair off her face and rubbing sleep out of her eyes. She checked the clock on her bedside table. Half past two. Not bad. Maybe one day she’d wake up in the fabled ‘morning’. She sensed Koakuma’s aura approaching down the corridor, and a moment later her bedroom door swung open.

“Good afternoon, mistress!” Koakuma’s said cheerily, carrying a tray. “I have breakfast for you, with your coffee.”

She had indeed, and breakfast consisted of bacon, eggs and beans on toast, along with a large glass of orange juice. Koakuma set the tray down at Patchouli’s lap, who started eating. Koakuma sat perched on the edge of the bed as she waited patiently.

“How’re you feeling today, Patchouli?” Koakuma asked tenderly, after several minutes had passed. “I know last night was… difficult for you.”

Patchouli froze. The events of last night came rushing back to her. Having a pleasant conversation with Marisa for a change. The paralyzing feeling that came when she linked auras. The anxiety. The fear at Marisa’s casual name dropping of dark magic. The embarrassment of breaking out into tears in front of Marisa.

“I… I don’t understand,” Patchouli whispered, staring at the food at her lap. “Why Marisa suddenly reminded me so much of  _ her _ .” With great difficulty, she looked up at Koakuma. “I’ve never been like that around Marisa before.”

Koakuma got up from her position to sit next to Patchouli, and patted her on the shoulder. They hadn’t talked much the previous night, Koakuma had sensed it was easier to let her calm down gradually, and they had spent around four hours playing Scrabble before Patchouli had begun to drift to sleepiness.

“If I may, Patchouli.” Koakuma hesitated. She did not want to make Patchouli uncomfortable, but this conversation was a surefire way to put her in discomfort, and yet it needed to be said. Patchouli nodded for her to continue. “If I may, but I talked to Marisa before she left, and she said she joked about you not liking her.” Patchouli nodded. “Was it… was it like last time?” Patchouli nodded her head slowly. “Forgive me for asking this, but… do you think you have feelings? For Marisa?” 

Patchouli’s body went rigid, hands clenching, knuckles turning white. An overwhelming, rippling wave of fear washed over Patchouli, mixed with a tinge of fury. She almost began to lash out at Koakuma. Almost. She was not that kind of person, she was better than that. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t upset with Koakuma’s audacity to mention such a foolish idea. 

“Of course not!” Patchouli said indignantly, “Do you really think that I’d fall for such a loud, abrasive, rude, thieving witch?!”

Koakuma smiled sadly.

“The only person who would judge you harshly if you did, is yourself. I just don’t want you to regret not doing something. Not again.”

Patchouli cast her mind back to the night before, to standing a foot away from Marisa. So close she could smell the magic. She had never stood so close to Marisa for such a long time before. And while she could remember the way the nerves threatened to overtake her at that moment, she also remembered something else. A quiet tenderness she had felt inside Marisa’s aura. Something… comforting. Something she wanted to feel again? Was this it? Was this a desire to be in someone’s presence? 

“I-” Patchouli faltered. “I enjoyed Marisa’s company last night. I think we could make close friends.” 

Koakuma looked unconvinced. Patchouli tried harder.

“We linked auras so she wouldn’t explode, and I felt… something. Something nice?” Koakuma nodded encouragingly. “So we got to talking, and she knows far more about dark magic than she should, especially at her age, in Gensokyo. I suppose that’s what started me off? The way she just casually mentioned Horcruxes?” Koakuma gasped. “Yeah. That was a shock to me too. The depths that magicians can stoop to is so closely guarded, and she just happened to name drop something like  _ those _ .”

“But the real nail in the coffin,” Koakuma pressed sadly, “Was that Marisa implied there was no future for you two?”

“What do you mean? Of course there’s no future for us. She’s attractive, popular, and smart. Of course she has men and women falling all over her.” Patchouli said dismissively. “She’d never want me.”

A heartbeat passed. Patchouli realised what she had just said a split second before Koakuma did.

Everything hit her at once. The first time Marisa had walked into the library and casually flirted with her. The way her stomach twisted itself into a new knot with every word this new girl spoke. Quickly learning how much of a pain in the arse Marisa could be. The building hope whenever Marisa showed up, only to be dashed when she left again, yet another book in tow. 

She’d told herself in between sobs that it was about the books, always the books. That the stories of Marisa and her ever braver brief romances didn’t phase her in the slightest. 

But it had continued, for years and years. Endless pangs of rejection for so long she’d gotten used to it. Just as it always had been. Just as it always will be.

But then, that wasn’t the whole truth. Something had changed yesterday, when Patchouli had linked their auras for this very room, she had felt something unexpected, deep within Marisa’s soul, that had rattled her. Patchouli had felt the overpowering desire to do good, yes, but much deeper than that, to be truly loved by a life partner. She had felt within herself a yearning. A yearning to be that love. It had never been about the books, it was always about the girl who took them. 

One final revelation came then.

Patchouli had a crush on Marisa.

By the gods. This was a  _ disaster. _

“Say anything,” Patchouli asserted her will over her familiar, an exceptionally uncommon move for her, “And I will blast you to atoms.”

Patchouli sat in silence, finishing her breakfast. She was haunted by the image of Marisa’s stupid cheeky grin. Finishing her breakfast, she took a long drink of the coffee as she released her mental hold over Koakuma.

“Koa. What the  _ fuck  _ am I going to do.”

“Well,” Koakuma grinned, “There is a party tonight.”

Ice filled Patchouli’s arteries. She had forgotten all about Remilia’s party. 

“I can’t do this Koa, I don’t want to ruin a newly budding friendship-”

“With all due respect-” Koakuma interrupted, “I don’t want you to have a repeat of the last century all over again.”

Patchouli’s nose flared at the interruption and disrespect from her familiar, but she had to admit it was a good point. Self-doubt and regret had been a part of Patchouli for so long, and she must’ve been a trouble for her family to deal with. Remi had been right, it was time to stop feeling sorry for herself.

Patchouli took a deep breath. She could do this party. She’d done it before. Just never with the added complication of a crush. Still, the impossible was merely the untried.

“I’m ready, let’s do this.” Patchouli said, trying to inject herself with confidence.

She rose out of bed, and stretched. “I’m going to draw a bath, pick some clothes out for me, would you?”

“As you wish, mistress,” Koakuma bowed as Patchouli crossed her room into the en suite. Her bathroom was a fairly common affair, tiled in white with the usual suspects present. Her bath was, of course, already drawn, filled with warm, soapy water. No need to wait around for menial things such as the _ bath _ when you could just psychically attune yourself to it and get it ready beforehand.

The soap was a blend from Eirin, who had prescribed it as a solution to combat stress and anxiety. Needless to say, it was prohibitively expensive, and Patchouli suspected the prescription was only recommended due to huge fortune she had partial control over. Still, she couldn’t deny that it was already getting the job done. It’s scent was certainly unique. One of its main ingredients was a Lunar relative of the Lavender tree, and she couldn’t help but gaze wistfully out the bathroom window, where she could just see the moon, skidding along above the afternoon sky.  _ What she’d give to visit the Lunar surface, and experience the wonders that were there. _ She shook her head to clear it. Silliness. The bath clearly had some neurological effects related to moon worship that she should probably mention to Eirin.

She removed her clothes, and sent them floating back through the door. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and frowned, experimentally squeezing her chest. She had never quite been sure if she liked her body or not. She had never felt a particular emotion towards her own nakedness when alone, neither the satisfaction or disgust that she knew other people felt towards themselves. She supposed there were things she would change if she cared to, but the fact was that seeing other people, much less  _ romancing _ them, was always a greater source of anxiety than wondering what they thought of her butt.

_ “ _ Oh don’t be silly, your butt is great _ ,” _ Koakuma had said once, but Patchouli wasn’t going to accept compliments on her body from Koakuma when A) She was honour bound to compliment her master whenever possible, and B) As a succubus, she was hardwired to find every butt great. Suddenly she found herself worrying. What would Marisa think of her butt, if she ever saw it. Would she like it, or was she into other body types? 

_ Although,  _ she thought to herself,  _ I’m fairly sure that Marisa would sleep with anything that moved, so she’d have to find me exceptionally unattractive to turn me down. _

Patchouli sank into the bath, closed her eyes and breathed a long sigh as the warm water enveloped her body. She felt her anxiety slip away right through her fingers. She’d be fine. Perhaps Marisa felt the same way, and they could take a vacation together to study the arcane. Maybe on the moon?

Patchouli shook her head. This bath soap worked wonders for her anxiety but its ability to redirect her train of thought back to the moon was irritating, to say the least. She sighed and leaned back, letting feelings of confidence soak into her bones.

 

About half an hour later, Patchouli emerged from her bathroom wrapped in her favourite fluffy purple towel. 

Koakuma looked up from her book at the sound, indicating the clothes she had picked out were now spread on Patchouli’s bed.

“Good Bath?” she asked. “How do you feel?”

“Relaxed, which makes a nice change. But I have just spent the past fifteen minutes staring at the moon. That Lunar Lavender is certainly a potent one, but I need to ask Eirin to tone it down a bit, it’s a bit debilitating.”

“You’ve been staring at the moon for a quarter of an hour? Don’t tell me you’ve turned into a werewolf, that’s the last thing we need!” Koakuma laughed, causing Patchouli to raise her eyebrow.

“Go and sit in the bath,” she ordered, “Tell me how much of an effect it has on you.”

Koakuma left, leaving Patchouli to inspect her taste in outfits. Koakuma had picked out a purple formal dress, a bit darker in shade to her normal choice, along with the usual suspects of long socks and underwear. Patchouli dried herself, before wrestling with the clothes. Formal attire was not her strong point, but she got there in the end, save for two large problems she just couldn’t figure out.

 

“Okay, okay I admit it, that bath stuff is funky!” Koakuma declared, loudly emerging from the bath and disrupting Patchouli’s thoughts entirely. She had dressed but her face was still red from the heat of the bath, which was kept to Patchouli’s preferred temperature magically. “I thought succubi were immune to mind altering drugs but what do you know? Turns out I want to sleep with the entire Lunar population.” She walked further in and caught proper sight of Patchouli. “Oh. My. Goddesses. You look so beautiful.”

Patchouli fixed her with a doubtful eye.

“Just why are  _ these _ ,” Patchouli indicated her chest, which was moderately exposed, “so  _ visible?” _

“Look, I have it on good authority that this is totally the correct way to go. Trust me.”

“Uh-huh, and why do they look larger than usual?”

“Oh that’s just how the dress is shaped, it’s designed to show off your natural assets. Marisa’s drunkenly announced herself to be a boob-girl on many occasions, and it never hurts to put all your eggs in one basket.”

Patchouli frowned.

“You do realise the phrase is ‘ _ don’t  _ put all your eggs in one basket’, right?”

“Ahh nonsense,” Koakuma waved her hand dismissively, “That saying is stupid anyway.” She crossed over to Patchouli. “Now, do you want me to sort out your hair and make-up?”

 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze, with Patchouli obsessing over an endless number of contingency plans. Koakuma was used to this side of Patchouli, she did this for every large gathering she attended. What she was not prepared for, was a question that Patchouli asked half an hour before the first guests were to arrive. They were sat in the Main Hall of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, occupying one of Remilia’s many sofas. 

“What if I see her kissing someone else?” Patchouli’s tone seemed casual enough, but there was the slight waver of uncertainty that only someone as familiar as Koakuma could pick up. She considered her response to Patchouli’s question, before going for the reckless option.

“I mean, if that’s going to be an issue for you, maybe you should get there first?” Koakuma teased, causing Patchouli to snort ungracefully.

“Yeah, like she’d wanna kiss  _ me _ .”

“Now now, you know not to jump to conclusions,” Koakuma chided, putting a teasing, motherly lilt to her voice for added humour. “At least  _ ask _ her before you assume the worst.”

To Patchouli’s credit, she had warmed to the idea of romance far faster than either herself or Koakuma had expected, and actually had begun to look forward to seeing Marisa by the time they’d emerged from her room.

Patchouli took a deep breath to calm her rapidly rising nerves.

“You talk so casually Koa, it’s not like this isn’t the most terrifying thing I have ever done, or anything.”

“You’ve fought gods, crushed demons, and annihilated extradimensional beings. How is making out with a girl the scariest thing in your life?!” Koakuma exclaimed, incredulous. Patchouli shushed her angrily.

“Don’t openly broadcast that I-”

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Patchouli was cut off by a blur of red as Reimu flopped down on the sofa next to them. “Who’s making out with who?”

“Patchouli likes-” Koakuma started, before her soul was flattened by Patchouli’s sheer force of will.

“- a book I’ve recently started reading.” Patchouli finished the sentence over her maid. “It involved a romantic subplot that seemed highly improbable, and I feel like it sours the overall tone of the story.”

“I didn’t have you pinned down for the romantic type, but then again, I didn’t know you read fiction in the first place…” Reimu trailed off, pondering. 

“S-so anyway,” Patchouli stuttered, trying to change the subject, “How come you’re here already?”

“Ahhh, I came via Marisa’s house, I wanted to make sure she wasn’t five hours late this time.”

Patchouli stiffened, and looked around the room in a wild panic. “Don’t worry, she’s not here yet,” Reimu said gently. “She’s on the way, she just uhh… left the fire on.”

Patchouli’s expression darkened.

“If she burns my books, I will burn her.”

“Now now, let’s not be rash. You’d be surprised over how many protective charms Marisa has over her house. It was less about her worrying over her house, and more about her wanting to conserve firewood.”

“How many protective charms  _ does _ she have on her house?”

“Uhhhh,” Reimu scratched her head, trying to recall. “Last time she told me, it was somewhere in the range of seven hundred.”

Patchouli gasped.

“Seven hundred? How in the name of all that’s arcane is the Forest of Magic still a living stretch of land?”

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Reimu shrugged, “She explained it to me, but it did take the better part of four days when I was in bed with a bad cold. I wasn’t in the best position to pay attention, nor could I escape from her relentless enthusiasm about it.”

“Hmmm…” Patchouli hummed, thoughtful. Perhaps she’d have a convenient excuse to initiate conversation after all. Though that did run the risk of being an excessively long conversation. Koakuma, still unable to talk, smiled to herself. She could tell that Reimu was hiding something too, and the irony that they were probably dancing around the same topic was highly amusing to her.

Patchouli and Reimu made pleasant small talk for several minutes, before Reimu took off to say hello to the Moriya Shrine family. 

“Koa, what the hell?!” Patchouli exclaimed, the moment Reimu was out of earshot, “You damn near gave me a heart attack.” To her credit, Koakuma was doing a very good job of looking bashful.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I just thought, well, since she’s Marisa’s best friend and all-”

“You  _ thought? _ ” Patchouli shot back, venom creeping into her voice. “It’s times like this that remind me why  _ I’m _ the intelligent one and you’re not.” Koakuma reeled back, hurt. “You do realise, that if we don’t do this tonight, this is going to end up lasting for years, and be completely unresolvable. The last thing I need is you giving me more reasons to panic.” 

“I’m sorry Mistress, I shall take my leave of you. I wish you luck.” Koakuma said glumly, and got up to leave. Patchouli immediately felt guilty, but chose not to call her back. The guilt did not quite quench her anger, even though she wasn’t entirely sure  _ why _ she was angry, but perhaps it was that she felt she needed to muddle through this on her own. She hadn’t gone to Remilia for advice for that reason, after all.

Patchouli sighed and leaned back into the sofa, trying to forget about what she was about to do. She tried people watching but that didn’t help her nerves, as Remilia was greeting every single guest the traditional European way, with a kiss in each cheek. She felt her own cheeks turn deeply red as she tried hard not to imagine showing Marisa the same greeting.

“Heya Patchy!” 

Patchouli shrieked in surprise as a red and blonde blur raced past her vision to plonk next to her on the sofa.

“H-hello Flandre.” Patchouli replied, her heart thumping in her throat. “How are you?” 

“Grown up parties are boring.” Flandre pouted. “All anyone’s doing around here is just talk. Where are the games? The snacks? The fireworks?”

Patchouli struggled to get her heartbeat and breathing back in control.

“Well, the buffet is starting in an hour, and then Remi’s doing her big fancy speech that will last for way too long, and then maybe the other grown-ups will be drunk enough to be entertaining.”

“Pah. Like I said, boring. Hey, where’s Marisa, she’s always good fun?”

Patchouli’s arteries filled with ice at mention of the name, and she struggled to keep her composure.

“I-I spoke to R-Reimu,” Patchouli said faintly, “S-she said Marisa was running late.”

“Awwww. Well, when you see Marisa, tell her I wanna pla- OH MY GOSH HER HAIR IS SO COOL.” Flandre’s eyes widened in shock as she caught sight of the long purple and brown hair of Byakuren. She charged off, and Patchouli made no attempt to stop her.

No sooner had Patchouli calmed down from her surprise meeting with Flandre, when another surprise meeting plopped down next to her. 

“Hey Patchy, how’re ya doin’?” Marisa had finally arrived, and had a big silly grin plastered across her face. Patchouli’s stomach felt like it had dropped a kilometre.

_ Oh no, _ Patchouli thought,  _ She’s actually really cute. How haven't I noticed this until now? _

“Aaaah,” Patchouli faltered, and slapped herself mentally.  _ Get it together _ . “I didn’t see you come in.” She finished lamely, Marisa’s stupid grin grew a fraction.

“Well I  _ was _ gonna be on time for once, because I wanted to give you a present but since I’m just so smart,” Marisa paused for dramatic effect, “I left my hat at home. But I went back to get it, so here it is now!” She reached into her overly bright cardigan and pulled out a small present, wrapped in plain brown parchment. On the top was a hastily scribbled message.

 

_ “To Patchy _

_ Happy Moving-into-Gensokyo Day!!! _

_ Love from The Coolest Witch xoxox” _

 

“You misspelt loudest.” Patchouli pointed out as she took the package with trembling hands. Her finger brushed against Marisa’s and she felt the butterflies in her stomach flare to life again.

She stared at the package in her hands for several seconds, unable to go further.

“You’re supposed to open it,” Marisa teased. Patchouli held her breath and ripped at the paper. A book fell out, Patchouli’s eyes widened in shock when she couldn’t recognise the cover. 

 

“Is this…” Patchouli whispered in wonder, she couldn’t talk any louder.

“Yup,  _ Natural Fauna on Luna’s Surface. _ ” Marisa said proudly, pointing at the cover. “Got it as advance payment from Kaguya, and figured that you’d appreciate it, since I’m fairly sure this is the only copy that’s ever been on Earth. The whole thing’s written in Lunarian, ya see.”

Patchouli opened the book, and found that the book was indeed incomprehensible. She was floored, this single object was likely more valuable than everything else in Gensokyo combined, provided you knew the right people. Patchouli had known the right people once, and was astounded that Marisa was just  _ giving  _ this to her. She gazed into Marisa’s eyes, who was looking at her uncertainly.

Patchouli took a deep breath. It was literally now or never. Her hands would not stop shaking. Her mouth felt dry. She felt like she was going to keel over, or cry, or faint, or run away, or all of them at once.  _ Be strong Patchy,  _ she told herself. She ran her fingers gingerly over one of the pages, which seemed to be made of some kind of Lunarian paper that Patchouli had never even heard of.

Patchouli took a second to take in Marisa’s features up close again. For someone who was so rough in speech, her face was soft. Framed by blonde hair. She felt her skin prickle with goosebumps, and she was unsure if it was a reaction to the witch or a leftover effect of the bath. Patchouli thought it was probably both. Marisa’s lips were not six inches from her own. She was about to kiss that face. The thought hit her with the force of a tsunami. She took a deep breath, held it for 5 seconds, and exhaled slowly. She repeated this several times.

“Wow, not even a joke at my expense?” Marisa drawled, “I’m hurt.”

“No more talking.” Patchouli decided, and moved in for the kill.

As their lips met at the slightest touch, Marisa froze. Patchouli froze. A small victory, Patchouli had, for the first time in her life, managed to truly surprise Marisa. Spurred on by this realisation, Patchouli pressed further, moving deeper into Marisa’s face. Her heart was beating like a drum, sounding deafening in her ears. She hadn’t felt this adrenaline, this  _ fear _ , in decades. It was an intoxicating feeling.

Marisa’s lips parted to accommodate more, and Patchouli obliged, feeling Marisa’s aura entwine with her own, magical energies conspiring to draw them closer together, enticing them, making them begin to hunger for each other.

It was awkward, haphazard and uncoordinated, but it was with Marisa. Every nerve ending in Patchouli’s body felt like it was on fire, but it felt so good. She let out a small yelp as a hand rose to cup her cheek. Marisa was moving deeper into the kiss! She was enjoying it!! She felt something warm and wet pressing against her lips, and realised that Marisa was beginning to get adventurous by probing her tongue against Patchouli’s lip, seeking a taste of magician. A second hand snaked around Patchouli’s back, pulling their bodies closer together and Marisa began to lazily caress Patchouli’s shoulder blades. Their lips parted as their heads pressed ever deeper together. 

Marisa withdrew for air, and all of Patchouli’s bravery was taken with her lips.

Patchouli’s eyes flew open as she broke apart fully. The enormity of what she had done hit her like a brick to the face. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t face the consequences. She needed escape. 

Marisa took a deep breath to savour what had just happened.

“My, my, my,” She whispered, to the space next to her, “You kiss like a goddess.” She opened her eyes to reveal an empty sofa. Damn. She sat there in silence for several minutes, drinking in what had just happened. She had kissed girls before, but this felt different. She was still in a state of genuine shock. She hadn’t expected Patchouli capable of kissing at all, much less of that calibre. It seemed she was not the only one who had kept interesting facts to her chest.

“Oh, there you are Marisa!”

Reimu had wandered over to where Marisa was sat. “Do you want to come and steal some food? Sakyua has really outdone herself this year,” she declared, shoving a small savoury pastry into her mouth.

“.......”

Marisa’s brain was deconstructing, the full enormity of what had just happened was beginning to settle in. Her face was vacant as she mentally scrambled to regain control over her thoughts.

“Hey Marisa?” Reimu was snapping her fingers in front of her friend’s face, and was concerned at the lack of response.

It took several seconds for Marisa’s eyes to refocus.

“Oh… Hi Reimu. She kissed me.”

“Who did?”

“She did,” Marisa gestured at the empty space next to her. She was clearly discombobulated, there was nobody next to-

Wait.

She’d sat in that very chair not twenty minutes ago, and who had she spoken to then?   
Dawning comprehension lit up the faces of both girls as they realised fully what had just happened at the same time.

 

 

Patchouli Knowledge had left a book behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came up with the title for this chapter as a joke, before realising that it was actually quite fitting for this chapter...  
> Oh, and happy 1st of June everyone~!


	5. Web

Patchouli fled through the empty hallways of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, still cursing herself. 

They were just  _ friends _ , Marisa wouldn’t bother herself with someone like Patchouli. Marisa wanted someone cool that could go out on adventures with her, Patchouli was barely able to walk from one side of her room to another on most days. There was also the nagging problem of being completely terrified of physical contact, and she wasn’t even sure how she had managed to last the precious few seconds she had. Perhaps a lingering effect of Eirin’s solution? The book was Lunarian, after all. Still though, she reflected, running her tongue over her own lips as if to savour another taste of the wild witch, it had been nicer than expected.

Her first kiss. Her first _ real  _ kiss. Flandre playacting as a prince rescuing the SDM “princesses” from their “Evil Boring Adult Activities” was familial affection. That didn’t count. This was a specific effort made for romantic reasons.  Patchouli wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, she’d finally manage to truly surprise Marisa, and it felt like it hadn’t been an unwelcome surprise. On the other hand, she’d crossed a line of no return. Marisa would forever know that she’d once been the target of Patchouli’s affection, and that was too much power for the witch to have. The dread reality of the idea of actually being in a  _ relationship  _ with  _ Kirisame _ thudded into her chest with every heartbeat. She had exposed herself. Made herself vulnerable. There were only two routes she could proceed from here, and one of those routes had been tried before. It hadn’t worked. 

But, she thought, heart sinking heavily, even if they did get together, what then? Marisa was a  _ mortal _ , and Patchouli realised that as painful of the idea of having a mortal girlfriend was, she would not put Marisa through the pain of becoming immortal. She thought back to her own ascension into immortality. That had been the worst day of her life, and it was preserved in her memory for eternity now. Marisa didn’t deserve a day like that. Marisa didn’t deserve any of the consequences. The heartbreak. The moral crisis. She didn’t deserve the-  _ why wasn’t she breathing? _

 

Patchouli suddenly became aware of the fact that every cell in her body was  _ screaming _ for oxygen, and had not gotten any for at least several seconds. She coughed as she tried to take in a breath, and couldn’t. Her airways had constricted themselves shut.  **_Koa I need you_ ** , she blasted a message through the psychic link she held with her familiar as she staggered to lean against the wall. She coughed again, a reflexive action to her lack of breath. She strained as hard as she could to at least draw  _ some _ air through her lungs, and the feeling of the air rushing through her constricted chest sent another wave of coughing rippling through her. She was beginning to get light-headed, and her legs gave way under her.

 

She began to feel the desperation set in just as a hand grasped her shoulder. Patchouli was flooded with relief upon realising that Koakuma had arrived. She felt a hand press into her back as she heard a voice float through the fog in her brain.

“Easy Patchy, I’m gonna fix ya in a sec, hold on.”

That was decidedly  _ not _ Koakuma’s manner of speaking, but it did not matter as much when she felt a surge of magic through the hand on her back, and felt the asthma attack purge itself from her lungs. Patchouli was puzzled. This wasn’t a form of magic she had felt in a long time, where had it come from again?

 

Patchouli blinked the tears away from her eyes to look at her saviour as she leant back against the wall in a more comfortable sitting position. Marisa’s concerned face stared into her eyes. She felt her cheeks grow red hot immediately and looked away.

“You got a fever too Patchy? Surprised I didn’t fix that too.”

Patchouli buried her face in her hands, embarrassed, and shook her head. “Want some space?” Patchouli hesitated. She wanted Marisa to sit down next to her and embrace her, but she couldn’t just  _ say _ that. Complex feelings swirled in her stomach and they weren’t helped when Marisa patted her shoulder and walked away. She left her face in her hands for a couple of moments before looking cautiously down the corridor. Empty.

 

Koakuma arrived at that moment, bringing a hastily assembled assortment of things Patchouli  _ might _ have needed. To be fair, she hadn’t communicated what she needed her familiar for, but she couldn’t think of any reason why handcuffs would be necessary. She noted with approval the presence of her favourite hat and pillow, along with individual medicines for her major ailments, several books she had been reading recently, and a large picnic blanket. 

“I’m here Mistress!!!” Koakuma said frantically, and it was clear it hadn’t been long since she blinked out tears of her own. Patchouli’s heart sank.

“Koa, I’m sorry.” Patchouli said, and sighed. “I was unkind to you.”

“T-That’s okay Mistress! I am here to aid you in whatever you need! No offence was taken!”

Patchouli smiled warmly at her familiar. She was always so loyal. She still felt bad though, maybe she’d give Koa a holiday.

“No, I was too harsh. You deserve better treatment, considering what you do for me when I’m invalid.”

“It is my duty as your familiar! And, I suppose, as a part of your family. Now, what did you call me for? Are you unwell?”

“I’m okay Koa, Marisa took care of the asthma for now.”

“Marisa? Ahh, that would explain the trace of Makaian magic I felt on the way down here.”

_ Makai?  _ Patchouli thought, frowning. 

“Did you… do it?” Koakuma whispered, leaning close to Patchouli, a conspiratorial grin on her face.

Patchouli’s cheeks had not regained their normal colour, but they turned deep red all over again. She nodded slowly. Koakuma started visibly shaking with excitement.

“I’m so happy for you! What was it like?” Koakuma asked, beaming.

“It was...” Patchouli struggled with the vocabulary. What were the correct adjectives to use here? “It was… uh… nice.” she finished lamely.

“Nice? It was just ‘nice’?!” Koakuma exclaimed, in mock outrage. “That cheeky bitch- er-  _ witch _ ! I’ll go and drag her right back here and she can give you another one that’s better than just ‘ _ nice _ ’!” She tore off down the corridor in the direction of the party, still carrying the entire assortment of items she had collected.

“Koa, wait, you really don’t need to-” Patchouli trailed off, she wouldn’t be heard at the speed that Koakuma was flying. The best thing she could do was try and steel herself for when she would see Marisa aga-

“Heya Patchy,” Patchouli near jumped out of skin as Marisa’s voice floated from the wall opposite her, her chameleon spell wearing off. She wore a huge grin across her stupid cute face, but Patchouli drew some level of satisfaction from seeing that Marisa also wore a mild blush on her cheeks and forehead.

 

“I...Marisa…”

Marisa walked across the corridor towards her. The grin not wavering for a second. “I mean, I’m s-sorry for intruding on your f-face like that-” Patchouli began to feel sweat collecting on her forehead, an attractive look to be sure. Marisa didn’t stop her slow, teasing approach. Patchouli noticed something, and her alarm turned to anger.

“What in the gods’ name did you do to your eye?” she demanded, eyes narrowed.

“Oh this?” Marisa stopped, and indicated her left eye, which was entirely bloodshot and bleeding. “Little Makai spell I learned from Alice. Transferral of physical damage.”

“Do you realise how dangerous that spell is to cast on me?! I have so many illnesses I’m surprised you’re still standing,” Patchouli couldn’t believe the rashness of this girl, and somehow it just made her want more. Another step from Marisa sent the butterflies spiralling through her abdomen all over again. 

Marisa waved her hand dismissively.

“Ahh I’ll be fine. I did make sure to just target your asthma, I may be dumb sometimes, but I’m not stupid.”

“Bullshit. You are so hopelessly reckless that it borders on suicidal.” Patchouli said, glaring, anger taking over. “Sometimes I wonder if you do actually just have a death wish.”

“Nah, death wishes are for people who need genuine care and help to get their lives back on track. Anyway-” Marisa hopped down to sit next to Patchouli, who flinched at how close the witch was sitting. “Mind telling me what you just did, you gave me a real surprise there.” Patchouli stammered, trying to get the words out.

“I-I… I mean w-what I’m… uhhh… What did you… aaaa...” Patchouli hid her face in her hands. She couldn’t do this, this was embarrassing. Terrifying. She’d protected herself for many decades and now she was expecting herself to make herself vulnerable on purpose?

“You left your present behind.” Marisa clarified, and handed Patchouli the book before joining her against the red wall. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you forget a book.” Patchouli’s heart sunk like a stone. So she did just want to be friends after all.  _ Well, _ Patchouli thought, tracing a trembling hand over the cover of the Lunarian book, _ I tried my best. Maybe we can forget about this whole thing and- _

“Hey Patchy?” Marisa’s tone made Patchouli look up and to her side, and found herself eye to eye with two beautifully golden eyes. Marisa leant forward to plant a quick kiss on Patchouli’s lips. Short and sweet, it had begun and finished before Patchouli had realised what had happened. “There’s more of that if you want it,” Marisa murmured softly, “But I would recommend putting that book in your protective ward. I’m gonna go back to the party and hang around for the food. If you want us to find a quiet space somewhere later, just pass me some chicken skewers.”

She clamboured back up to her feet, winked at Patchouli mischievously, who felt her heart flutter in response, before summoning her broom, mounting it like a surfboard, and zoomed off. Patchouli chuckled at how silly Marisa could be, and felt a great weight lift off her chest. Maybe things were going to work out after all.

  
  


Marisa returned to the main hall, feeling elated. She’d actually done the impossible. She had broken through Patchouli’s hard exterior, and found her interior to be heart-meltingly  _ adorable _ . Not only that, but she’d also gotten through an entire conversation without messing up somehow! She really was learning!

She spotted Koakuma hovering above the crowd and waved. 

“I thought there was a strict no-flight policy here?” Marisa asked, once Koakuma was within earshot.

“Employees get an exception, we have places to be.” replied Koakuma, waving her hand. “Anyway,” she pointed dramatically at Marisa’s nose, “You and I have somewhere to go.”

“Nah, I was there all along, you ran straight past me,” Marisa winked and grinned cheekily, “Guess you’re on Team Marisa too then.”

“Ummmm, no,” Koakuma shook her head, “I’m on Team Patchouli.”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“Definitely not! You’re way too weird,” Koakuma laughed, her weird head-wings fluttering “I mean, if Patchy is into you then I’ll support that,”

Marisa shrugged.

“She kissed me first, and I’m a simple girl. Get kissed, kiss back twice as-”

A gentle tinkling sound spread throughout the hall. Remilia wanted to begin her speech. She had flown above the front door to address all her guests.

 

“Ladies and… well, more Ladies.” Remilia began, getting a gentle rumble of laughter in response. The few males in the room were aware they weren’t holders of any real political power.

“I’d like to say a few words to you all on this night, but first a toast! To Yukari, who lovingly handcrafted this refuge for the supernatural, and to Reimu, who has staunchly refused to let the rest of us mess it up! Thank you for beating us up and then making us a nice cup of tea.” Another smattering of laughter. “I’ve been thinking about what Gensokyo means to me, to us. In the Outside World, conflict is an omnipresent beast. It rears its ugly head when you least expect it, and old grudges are never truly forgotten-”

Marisa rolled her eyes, same old Remilia. Marisa was hungry, but she couldn’t just walk over to the buffet table. That’d be rude. So instead she resolved to very slowly edge her way across the room, hoping nobody would notice.

She sidled past Byakuren, who was keenly listening to the speech and nodding along to the vampire’s many, many points of view. Past the small Oni, Suika, who was obviously already absolutely smashed on sake. She was within reach of the savoury pastries, but she waited for a while to ease any suspicious eyes.

“-Now, I remember when my family first came to Gensokyo. I was younger then, foolish. I’d just been removed from my home and I was angry, I wanted revenge. I wanted power. I was stopped by two humans, two young girls, who had no qualms about entering my home, avoiding deadly traps that had killed hundreds in the past, walking into my lair, stopping my plans, and then having a nice chat. They wanted to understand me, to welcome me to their country the way nobody else had yet, and-”

_ Oh for fuck’s sake _ , Marisa thought,  _ stop hamming it up and get to the point, it wasn’t that big of a deal. _ She stared at a pastry in the pile, twitched her eyebrow slightly as she channeled a nonverbal spell at it, and watched as it faded from view. Several seconds later the invisible snack had found its way into her hand, and then her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered in bliss as she chewed. It tasted  _ good. _ The savoury meat and pastry was perfectly balanced by a sweet onion relish, and the flavours all tumbled around her mouth in sheer joy.

The pastry was perhaps a little  _ too  _ flaky though, and as she involuntarily inhaled, some flakes followed the air down her windpipe. Her loud spluttering was masked by the sudden loud applause filling the hall. Remilia had  _ finally _ finished her speech. A spout arrived in Marisa’s mouth, and a large quantity of sake soon followed.

“Ahhh drinsh up me frien’,” Slurred Suika, “Ger sherm shark in ya!”

Marisa obliged, never the one to turn down free booze. It worked too, as she came back for breath she found her airways were once again free of food. Truly, the wonders of alcohol were myriad and needed investigating one day.

She straightened back up, gave a small burp, and nodded in the direction of Suika.

“Thanks for the drink.” Marisa said, nodding.

“Eeesh no probbum buddd,” Suika slurred in what could be a passable imitation of real speech, before she wobbled away. 

Marisa turned back towards the food table and found herself face to face with Patchouli and Koakuma, the former was turned a deep red hue, and carrying the entire platter of chicken skewers. Marisa grinned.

“Heh, guess you wanted more of this wit-mmphphhf.” Marisa’s joke was cut short when Patchouli unceremoniously shoved a skewer into her mouth. Marisa’s eyes began to water. That skewer was covered in some  _ really  _ spicy sauce, but hot damn, it tasted good.

“...” Patchouli opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it. She was visibly trembling.

“You haff my affenfion.” Marisa said around the skewer.

Patchouli opened her mouth to say something again, but couldn’t manage more than a squeak.  _ Poor girl’s terrified. _ Marisa thought.  _ Bless. _

“Marisa, Patchouli,” Koakuma said, indicating the pile of items she was  _ still  _ carrying about. Patchouli had quite forgotten to ask her to put them back. “I’m still holding this picnic blanket, maybe we could adjourn outside?”

 

They made their way outside, past the crowd of partygoers making use of the crisp night air to smoke all sorts of plants, Marisa’s confident swagger masking how she was  _ fucking terrified _ of screwing this up. She’d slept with plenty of girls in the past, and made out with even more, so she knew her way around a woman, but something about Patchouli was different. Special.  _ Reimu was right, _ she realised with a start, she was tired of flings that lasted an afternoon, weary of the reputation she was beginning to garner. She needed a friendly voice to chase away the nightmares.

“There’s a nice spot a...around the c-corner,” Patchouli mumbled, completely unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice, “You can usually get the best view of the stars from there,” Marisa nodded along.

“Yeah, sounds good,” she replied, when she realised that Patchouli probably wouldn’t be able to see her head in the darkness.  _ Stupid. _

They reached the chosen spot, and Koakuma laid the picnic blanket on the grass, along with the plates of food, wine glasses and wine bottle. Marisa and Patchouli sat down, Koakuma bowed deeply and left.

They sat in an awkward silence for a minute, neither knowing how to begin the conversation. How would they address this? Marisa usually went for the physical approach, but didn’t want to go overly aggressive and scare Patchouli off.

“It’s a bit dark for my tastes, I’ll get a light on.” Patchouli said, “ _ Lux.” _

At her words, several balls of dim light erupted from her fingertips, and settled in a circle just above their heads. It felt like they were sat under candlelight, and Marisa could actually see Patchouli’s face again, which was still deeply flushed.

“That’s loads better, and those orbs look really neat,” Marisa said, “as do you! I only just noticed that you dressed up all for me!”

Patchouli looked away as she squeaked out a response.

“Thanksihopeyoulikeit.”

Marisa laughed and took a bite of chicken.

“Of course I do, whaddaya take me for?”

“Loud, obnoxious and with no particular respect for property laws.” Patchouli, teasing, with a hint of genuine annoyance, “Of all the women in Gensokyo it had to be  _ you.” _

“Had to be me what?” Marisa teased.

“Had to be you that- argh!” Patchouli’s face contorted in frustration, “I can’t just say it!”

“Why not? What’s happened that makes love such a touchy subject for you?”

“I...I…” Tears had welled up in her eyes, and Marisa felt her stomach drop. Here it came again, the end of her encounter with Patchouli. She’d put her foot in it again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“N-no it’s f-fine,” Patchouli sniffed, and blew her nose on a serviette. “I just,” she sighed, “bad memories.”

“If you wanna share them with me, I can help.”

Patchouli hesitated.

“I don’t want you to think poorly of me. That day was one of worst I have ever experienced. I spent so many years trying to seal that memory away.”

On seeing the fretful expression lining Patchouli’s face, Marisa grabbed her shoulders.

“Look at me Patchy.” Patchouli turned her head, her shining eyes gazing into Marisa’s. “Nothing you say could possibly be as bad, or as embarrassing as my life. The last woman I slept with was a fairy queen, and I’m not ashamed to admit the fact it was the worst night of my adult life.”

“I thought that was a joke!” Patchouli spluttered, distracted. Marisa’s face hardened.

“That bitch told me she wouldn’t tell anyone. Teaches me to trust a fairy queen. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that we all have shit we’d rather not talk about, but sometimes it hurts more to keep it hush-hush. Take it from me, sometimes what I’ve needed the most is a cup of tea and a sit down.”

“You really are an enigma, aren’t you? You give off this air of simplicity, and yet you’re so much deeper than first appears.” 

Marisa let go of Patchouli, and lay on her back, staring at the constellations.

“I’ve had a complicated life Patchy. It’d take weeks to go through everything.”

“You’re literally barely in your twenties. I’ve stayed indoors for longer periods of time than your entire life.”

Marisa turned to look at Patchouli, and her face wore an unfamiliar expression. Was it pity?

“That’s not something to be proud of. What was it Patchy? Why does living upset you so much?” she said, sadly.

 

Patchouli felt like an icy dagger had pierced her heart. Did Marisa judge her? How dare she. Patchouli would show her exactly what she had seen. What she had felt. She leaned over and put her hand on Marisa’s temple, and used their aura link to transmit a memory, one from decades, centuries, past...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some mad writer's block this month, which, combined with an AWFULLY hot July, meant for very very little writing time. I planned to get a lot more writing done this summer, but apparently not.  
> Oh well. I finally have plans for where this story is going to end up, and, quite frankly, I can't wait to get there.  
> Hopefully the next chapter(s) won't take as long to get out.
> 
>  
> 
> Hopefully.


	6. The Chartreuse Nightmare

_ Several hundred years ago... _

 

“Come on Patchy~!” Patchouli’s attention had been pulled away from her book to stare into the pink hair and eyes of her best friend, Sylfaen. “Come hang out with me tonight, it’s such a lovely night out! Let’s go to that party at the tavern down the road, everyone’s invited! I even managed to get the grumpy Scarlet vampire girl to come out, and you know what  _ she’s _ like.”

“I can’t.” Patchouli sighed. “I said I’d finish studying this topic for Professor Hornbeam, and you’ve already distracted me twice this week.”

Sylfaen mock-pouted, her thin, half-elven lips unable to keep from contorting into a grin.

“But that’s only because I love you so much~!” she teased, throwing her arms around Patchouli’s shoulders in an exaggerated manner. Patchouli grimaced as an ice-cold feeling crept into her stomach at those words. She knew Sylfaen was only teasing, but having your longtime crush unknowingly taunt your soul with words like “love” or displays of affection always hurts at the best of times.

Though, Patchouli wasn’t sure if it  _ was  _ unknowing, Sylfaen had that curious glint in her eyes, the one she always got whenever she went for an overt display of affection, or when Patchouli’s heart was yearning for a cuddle. Their monthly astronomy practical had been last week, they’d been expected to map the motions of the planets across the night sky, and ended up laying under the stars. They’d talked for hours about how beautiful the night sky was. Sylfaen had gotten that twinkle in her eyes when they woke up, just before dawn, faces an inch apart, eyes sparkling in the earliest daylight.

Or the time the week before that, when Patchouli had found herself pulled into an argument between Sylfaen and their third roommate, Claren, about which type of underwear was cuter.

“Look,” Sylfaen had declared, “I’m obviously right, these are the best. Don’t you think so, Patchy?”

Patchouli had been sat on her bed reading a book at the time, and she’d looked up to be met with the sight of Sylfaen holding some excessively lacy panties in front of her legs. Their eyes met for a microsecond. Patchouli had turned as red as a tomato and looked back at her book, saying nothing and trying to block out the sound of Sylfaen’s snickering.

Patchouli sighed and shook her head, both to clear her thoughts and to distract herself from the feeling of sweat beading on her temple.

“Professor Hornbeam asked me to do this tonight, and drinking mead with rowdy men I don’t know isn’t exactly my kind of fun anyway,” she said, trying to give herself a trace of assertiveness.

“Awww I know that.” Sylfaen rubbed Patchouli’s cheek jokingly, who felt a million butterflies begin to riot in her chest. “You’d much rather have a quiet girl’s night in with meeee~”

Patchouli  _ did _ want that, as she had for an agonising number of months. But she had never managed to get the words out. Romantic words were just too hard to put together properly. They stared at each other for a moment, words dying in Patchouli’s throat. She gulped, and her confession sank back into the pit of her stomach. This was ridiculous. Sylfaen had been approached with offers of courtship by no less than nineteen other students, of a roughly equal gender split, one from a  _ literal angel from capital ‘H’ Heaven, _ and she had turned down every single one of them, telling them that she ‘already had her eye on someone’. Clearly she enjoyed tormenting Patchouli’s heart. Something had to be done about this.

“We can hang out tomorrow night,” Patchouli said, barely hearing her own words, “find a nice quiet place to sit and talk again, I enjoyed that last time.”

Sylfaen beamed at her, which gave way to a cheeky grin.

“Awww is my little Patchy getting all sentimental?” She said teasingly, “Thinking about having a nice snuggle, are we?” Sylfaen winked at Patchouli, who felt her lungs miss a breath.  _ Well actually... _

“It’s a date! Anyway, I must dash. I told the girls I’d meet them at sundown. I’ll see you later!” Sylfaen’s words jolted Patchouli out of her daze, and before she could even begin to utter a  _ “No, wait!” _ , her friend was gone. 

Patchouli sighed, cursing herself for wasting another perfectly good opportunity to kick the damned bucket early and just ask her out already. She could’ve had those soft olive cheeks all to herself tonight, but alas...

She shook her head, and peered back at the book she was reading. Complex diagrams littered the page, outlining some of the basic alchemical properties that a Philosopher’s Stone seemed to exhibit, which she had been comparing to her own experiments done with Professor Hornbeam’s own Stone, mounted onto a solid gold neck chain, which she was still hiding under her dress. It did not do well to flaunt the fact that the old teacher trusted Patchouli enough that she could freely carry it around.

She turned the page and continued reading. Several hours passed before she moved again.

_ -in spite of this, critics of the Philosopher’s Stone maintain that there is nothing supernatural about the substance. They argue that the transmutation of Lead into Gold is viable without specifically needing a source of the Stone, and, in fact, F. Hazerbell claimed in 1593 to have achieved just that, using twenty-three ounces of molten platinum as a catalyst to transmute 2 ounces of pure lead into pure gold. It should be noted that this reaction requires an enormous amount of platinum, so much so that the value of this reaction remains purely academic. _

 

“Where is Professor Hornbeam, girl?” An unfamiliar voice asked, tone somewhat harsh. Patchouli pointed in the vague direction of her office, not looking up from her book. “...” Silence.

“You’re welcome…” Patchouli muttered under her breath, annoyed. She looked up and behind her. The woman had left before Patchouli could actually get a proper look at her, beyond catching a glimpse of a long mane of green hair.

 

_ One aspect of the Stone that cannot be denied is its peculiar affinity for the Soul. The Great Yearning that many alchemists feel towards producing the Stone is only amplified upon actually obtaining it. Curiously, with modern developments in sensitive measuring equipment, we can conclusively measure that the Stone also seems to “feel a yearning” towards souls. While the Stone is an inanimate substance despite the many forms it can take, there is definitely a force exerted from Philosopher’s Stones towards beings with souls, with the magnitude of attraction proportional to the separation and strength of said soul. It is said by some that this is leading us ever closer to the discovery and containment of Azoth, but to date none have even dreamed of a complete rune to make this, grandest of alchemical feats. Azoth is said to be- _

Patchouli was knocked out of her reading trance yet again by the sound of an explosion in the grounds. Patchouli sighed. Yet another first year experimenting- another explosion, and then another. That wasn’t normal. Usually everyone would’ve stopped what they were doing to be nosy. She paused her reading and lifted her head, as if that would help her hearing. Minutes passed in silence, as she listened keenly for the sound of any shouting instructors. Her ears pricked up and she flung herself under her desk as the roof of the library exploded inwards in a deafening cacophony, sending burning debris onto the books, and students, below.

Patchouli’s ears rang, and she was fairly sure she was bleeding from her left leg, if the searing pain across her calf was accurate, but that was all secondary to the fact that the library was on fire. 

Priceless books were at risk. The combined knowledge of a thousand magical students was crumbling into ash before her eyes. None of the instructors were present. The only other students in the library at all were novices. Patchouli was the only person who had even the slightest hope in saving everyone. 

Mentally rehearsing the incantation, she staggered onto her desk, as if the extra three feet of height would make a major difference. She took a deep breath. Either this was going to work, or she was going to die. She raised her right arm straight up, palm facing the (newly exposed) inky sky.

_ “Eflome opun aego, expunge.”  _ She screamed the incantation, and the flames rushed from across the library straight towards her hand. Pain was instant. Patchouli screamed. Her eyes felt like they were melting, she was holding an entire library’s worth of fìre in her hand, the combined energy must’ve exceeded 6,000 degrees. She waited for her arm to scorch and burn, but nothing happened beyond the incredible pain getting worse and worse. What she hadn’t expected was to feel nauseous, a heavy weight pressing on her chest.

She felt like she was dying, but not due to the fire. Something was wearing down on her from the inside.

_ Professor Hornbeam’s Philosopher’s Stone, _ Patchouli realised through tears of agony,  _ It’s cannibalising my soul to protect my body. Fascinating. _

The entire library’s fire was contained in the palm of her hand, which she snapped shut, extinguishing the flame entirely. Panting heavily, she wiped the sweat from her brow with her left arm, and found her arm covered in not only sweat, but also blood and the remains of her fringe. Apparently she had almost cooked herself. Literally. 

The library was safe. For now. She barely heard the appreciative claps from the other students. She felt awful. The nausea induced by the Philosopher’s Stone hadn’t subsided. She rehearsed a quick anti-nausea spell which had no effect. This was no normal illness. Patchouli had researched enough into the Philosopher’s Stone to recognise Stage One Soul Depletion. She would never feel 100% again. 

There was no time to stand around feeling sorry for herself. She couldn’t just stand here. She  _ had _ to investigate. She took to the air, flying through the new hole in the roof.  _ Might as well use it while it's here. _

She looked at the grounds of the Hornbeam Academy and gasped in dismay. The grounds were in utter desolation. Fire was everywhere, the ground had been ripped up and thrown about by the cartload, and the sky was slowly turning an awful, sickly green colour. It was supposed to be night. She could just about make out the tavern that Sylfaen and her friends had gone to visit and made a beeline towards the horizon, air rushing into her face, rippling her lips and cheeks. She had gotten halfway across the sky when she felt a disturbingly strong drain on the magical atmosphere. Someone was charging an  _ awful _ spell. It was the green haired woman from earlier.

This time, Patchouli had no mysteries on who the woman was. Mima. Come to destroy Hornbeam’s legacy, and Patchouli was a sitting duck, a hundred metres in the air without any cover.

She barely raised a protective ward in time.

Mima’s spell burst in a nova of disgusting light. 

_ Oh. Radiation. That’s nice. _ Patchouli thought dully.  _ Guess I’m just dead then. _

She wasn’t scared of death exactly, but she’d have so many regrets if she died now.

But she didn’t die. In spite of her impending doom, she instinctively raised both her arms, and screamed the strongest protective ward spell she knew. A red bubble expanded around her body, which crackled and sparked under the strain the radiation spell was exerting on it. Mima clearly had no qualms about committing mass-murder, but that wasn’t exactly news. The now familiar nausea and feeling of dying-but-not-quite set in again, the feeling of the Philosopher’s Stone burning her soul. It didn’t stop. The spell Mima had cast lasted for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. To say it hurt was an understatement. Patchouli’s mind fell apart. She lost all sense. 

 

Nothing.

 

And then she was coughing up soil, followed by the rest of the contents of her stomach. Taking the radiation might’ve been the better option. She looked around. Everything was dead. The radiation magic had seen to that. But it went beyond that. The colour leached out of every plant, every tree. Mima had done more than kill the grounds, she had stolen the very life force out of the Earth. Patchouli felt a torrent of rage ignite across her body. This desecration was unforgivable. 

She cast a wary eye across the landscape, everything was still. Mima had gone. Slowly, cautiously, she rose into the air. She took a peek at the academy, or what remained of it. The centuries of intricate stonework, like the surrounding plants and everything within, had all been turned into a pile of ash. Curiously the effect had only gone as far as the grounds of the ancient school, the surrounding farmers’ fields. _So_ _this was a targeted attack_ , Patchouli thought, _What the fuck is wrong with Mima?_

Mima had clearly seen to burning the rest of the books, and she didn’t even  _ want _ to see what had happened to the other students, let alone the instructors that had fought Mima. A fresh wave of revulsion tried to surge up her throat, unrelated to her Soul Depletion. She did not want to  _ imagine _ what the last five minutes were like to have witnessed. She was ashamed to feel relief that she had been spared from seeing the full nightmare. The only saving grace was that so many of the students had gone t _ o the tavern! Sylfaen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _

Patchouli turned away from the ruins to streak across the sky, the wind forcing her face to contort, cheeks pushed open as wide as they would go. She dared not think about what she was about to see. She spotted a group of around thirty people clustered at a spot on the boundary between the still living fields and the dead hellscape. She could just about make out the sight of a figure that lay half and half across the boundary. Her heart dropping as fast her body, she raced towards the ground.

 

Flandre Scarlet had taken charge. As the most senior student, the tall vampire cut an imposing figure above the rabble.

“Get back, all of you!” she cried over the frightened murmurings of the other students. “We don’t yet know if touching the grey stuff will kill us too.”

“Easy for you to say!” A voice cried back, “You don’t have a brother who was still in the library!”

Flandre exchanged a look with Mr. Flamel, the only teacher who had left school to go to the tavern that night. He shook his head an imperceptibly small amount before resuming his examining of the unfortunate soul who had been killed.

Flandre’s reply was left dead on her tongue as the other students cried out again, this time in shock. Patchouli had zoomed down from the sky and landed hard on the ground next to them. Flandre’s keen hearing picked up the sound of several toes shattering.

“What’s happened?” Patchouli urged the group, breathless. “What’s happened why is there someone laying- oh.” The crowd had parted to give her sight of the… dead… body…

“NO!” she bellowed, rushing to Slyfaen’s side, shoving Mr. Flamel out of the way. Sylfaen hadn’t been hit much, just an arm, her head and the top of her chest, but that’s all that was needed. Her life had been stolen from her. Gone. Grey. Dead. She grabbed Sylfaen’s hand. It was still warm and rosy. Tears flowed freely down Patchouli’s face. She looked up to find herself alone, Mr. Flamel had ushered everyone away, now they knew the Academy grounds were safe to traverse, and she was thankful. 

She pressed the dead fingers to her lips.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” she breathed, her mind unravelling. Surely she could fix this. “I-” the words caught in her throat, the three words she had never managed to say to the living.  _ I love you. _ She mouthed against Sylfaen’s hand, unable to stop the sobs forcing their way across her heavy chest. She ran her hand through Sylfaen’s now grey hair. It felt like straw, in contrast with its rightful fullness. The hair crumbled under the movement. Patchouli’s heart broke all over again. She had been so beautiful, and now...this.

No. She  _ was still _ beautiful. Mima had tried to ruin it, but the Sylfaen  _ she  _ knew was still out there. In the afterlife. She could follow her, and they’d be together forever. Her chest grew tighter. She was afraid of death, but she  _ had _ been afraid of asking Sylfaen out on a date. Her hand shook. It would be so easy.

No. 

Her mouth thinned out. Mima would do this again, and again, and again, and again. Over and over. Someone needed to stop her. Patchouli wasn’t brave enough to do it, but surely she could do  _ something  _ to help. She couldn’t die  _ now. _ She had work to do. Her chest pounded with emotion as she looked at Sylfaen’s perfect features again. She leant towards her face, and their lips brushed together.

“Ow!” she gasped in shock as a sharp pain spread across her sternum. Had she been stung? She shoved her hand down her collar to find the Philosopher’s Stone.  _ Of course! She could use this to bring Sylfaen back!! _

She held it in her hand, it was scalding hot. Resonating with the emotion of the moment. Patchouli’s eyes shone with hope. What she was about to do was the most forbidden act in alchemy, but she didn’t care. Not if it brought Sylfaen back.

“Take what you need from me, bring my love back to me,” Patchouli commanded, almost tripping over her words, the Stone glowed yellow, as if it had understood her request.

She nodded, and firmly planted the Stone on Sylfaen’s left breast. Just above her heart.

The effect was immediate. A blinding white light shone across the landscape, forcing Patchouli’s eyes shut. She could feel the magic of the taboo alchemy working its way across her body, into her very soul. It poured fire down her throat and pulled wisdom out of her ears. The scream forced its way out of her lips, as she felt her toes… reconfiguring?

A loud rumbling surrounded the scene, as the alchemic magics reworked the very laws of the universe in a small circle. The essence of death itself forced itself out of every orifice.  _ Wait… out? _

Suddenly she became keenly aware of her entire body. She was not losing anything, the stone hadn’t taken anything? If anything she felt… not better, but… reinforced. Her heart sank, unrelated to the alchemy. She felt an awful emotion as her soul anchored itself, in a very literal sense, to the mortal realm.

“Nono **noNO** ,  **STOP.** ” Patchouli bellowed, still unable to see. “ **CANCEL. END. REVERSE. CEASE. DEACTIVATE.** ” Patchouli’s commands were ignored. The reaction finished. The Stone shattered. The light faded. 

Patchouli blinked in the darkness, she was worried for a moment that she had been permanently blinded, but her vision restored herself. Sylfaen was gone. There was no trace of her. Patchouli sunk to her knees again, unaware that she had stood up in the first place. An infinitely black mood creeped across her psyche. She was immortal. There was no need to test it. She had made a cataclysmically bad judgement call and she had robbed Sylfaen access to an afterlife. An afterlife that she would never see either. The sobs came all over again, tears dropping from her immortal cheeks onto her undying legs. She cried and cried, she couldn’t stop. The guilt, grief, pain, heartache, anger, sorrow, rage, worry, it was all too much. 

When her eyes had run out of water, she took a steady breath. She still felt the effects of the Soul Depletion, and she would forever. Such was the price to pay for committing such a taboo.

She noticed a small black book, bound not in leather, but some black metal she hadn’t seen before. She picked it up, the metal felt cold and sad. She looked at the cover.  _ Bringing the Apocalypse and other Fun Friday Feats, by Mima. _

Patchouli tucked the book under her shoulder, and laughed darkly. In a way, the Stone had done exactly what she told it to do. She had given up everything she had (hope, happiness, Sylfaen) and in return obtained something she loved (knowledge). She turned and trudged her way back to the academy. Someone had one hell of a job cleaning this place up...

* * *

Marisa took a deep breath as the vision ended. She laid back on the blanket, tears streaming down her face. Patchouli felt like she was about to throw up, both from the exertion of sharing such a long, old memory, and from the contents of the memory. She had forgotten the gory details, but the event had left a burning pit of misery in her incomplete soul. Remembering it all had hurt her just as bad the second time. She felt ashamed. Ashamed of what she had done. What she hadn’t done. Consuming Sylfaen’s soul had been a terrible, taboo act. They lay there for a moment, taking in what they had just experienced together. Breathing in the air of the present day, letting the fog of the nightmare leave their heads.

“Patchouli?” Marisa’s shaky voice cut through the silence. For the first time in Patchouli’s life, Marisa sounded small, genuinely timid. “All those shitty things I did to you over the years, I ain’t meant anythin’ by it? I’m sorry I was a dick to ya.” 

“Well, that’s uncharacteristically remorseful of you.” Patchouli replied, raising her eyebrow, “I will admit, some of them did leave a sour taste, but I haven’t thought about  _ that day _ in so many years, it really puts things into perspective.”

Marisa sniffled.

“I just… _ felt  _ it, y’know? All those feelings you felt back then. I felt ‘em too. You’re a real saint, Patchy. Going through all that shit, then gritting your teeth and getting on with helpin’ out.” 

Patchouli blushed at the compliment.

“I did what anyone would do. It wasn’t easy, but it was right.”

“Don’t be modest, ya did good.” Marisa leaned closer to Patchouli’s face, chancing her luck. “Turns out, ya ain’t just  _ hot, _ but you’re  _ cool _ too.”

A second passed.

“Marisa.” Patchouli said flatly. “Was that supposed to be smooth?”

“Maybe a little bit.” She replied, grinning. “One thing I don’t get though, was that  _ Flan _ back there?”

Patchouli sighed.

“Maybe one day I’ll explain that to you, it was the second worst day of my life, but not by a large margin. I don’t want to right now though, I feel shitty enough as it is.” Marisa looked bashful at Patchouli’s words.

“Patchy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Well, you’d need to know one day, eventually.”

“Yeah but even so-”

“You are my friend, and so you must be told.” Patchouli cut through Marisa’s protesting and attempts to apologise. “I am sorry that it upset you, but this is my life. I have many regrets, but it was what it was.”

“Am I just your friend though?” Marisa winked, “I mean, it  _ was _ you that put yourself on me earlier.”

“I-well- that was-” Patchouli stumbled across her words, blindsided.

“Look, I get if you’re all caught up with ur old crush after all that, she was twice as hot as I am, and the gods know what  _ I’d  _ have said to her would be a hundred times less sweet than you, but, uhh, at the end of the day, I’m-uh-here in real life?” Marisa’s voice rose, uncertain. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say here, so she mumbled the first thing that came to mind. Patchouli stared at her, bewildered.

“I’m not sure what’s more insane, the fact you thought saying that would cheer me up, or the fact that it  _ did _ cheer me up.” She took a deep breath. She braced herself. “So I might as well have my turn. You are annoying, selfish and rude. You take people’s stuff and you irritate them with bizarre tangents in conversations that you started with no interest of receiving a reply. You have created a reputation in Gensokyo as a pest, and you do your best to live up to said reputation. But in spite of all that, you are, unapologetically and eternally,  _ yourself.  _ And I like that. I like…  you.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... turned out somewhat darker than I was expecting, and it took WAY TOO LONG to write. I've been stuck on this chapter for ages because previous versions just would not cooperate with me.  
> I've also changed the work's tags to reflect the fact that apparently this is not just going to be a romance, but don't worry! I'm not just going to make this a darkfic. I'm not too sure what else to add to the tags though, so let me know if you have any suggested tags!
> 
> The next chapter's already fighting me a whole lot less than this one did, so maybe we can focus on some good old Maripatchy next time ;-)


	7. Repair

“But in spite of all that, you are, unapologetically and eternally,  _ yourself.  _ And I like that. I like… you.”

Marisa blinked. She was sure she had misheard, in spite of the rapidly mounting evidence to the contrary.

“You… like me?” Marisa repeated, saying the words slowly as if language was an alien concept to her,  “Why?” 

Patchouli looked stunned. After all the mental rehearsals of any and all of the possible outcomes, Marisa asking  _ why? _ had not been one of them.

“That’s… not what you’re supposed to say” she huffed, irritated. “There’s a great wealth of responses at your disposal. You could go for a  _ ‘oh that’s lovely I like you too,’  _ or a  _ ‘that’s very nice I do need a moment to think about it though,’  _ or even a  _ ‘what the fuck is wrong with you get away from me you disgusting nerd,’. _ Simply going for a one word response is both rude and uncharacteristically quiet.” she leaned closer to Marisa’s face. “What’s wrong?”

 

Marisa was having a crisis. It had just hit her. The spell that Mima had cast. She’d been able to cast it as a surprise for Mima’s birthday. She had been twelve years old. She hadn’t known it was  _ that  _ dangerous. She hadn’t known it was dangerous at all. All Mima had said was that the spell was too complex for her to understand and she’d merely taken that as an invitation to try. Of course, she hadn’t cast the full version of  _ Gammaray Supernova,  _ and it had been more like a  _ Gammaray Flashlight,  _ but the point was, Marisa was only just beginning to grasp how dangerous she herself was. If a nuclear warhead had ever developed sentience, they’d probably be having a similar internal feeling.

 

_ She’ll kill you. The moment she knows, she will hunt you down and destroy you. And it will break her. _

 

Marisa flashed one of her best (worst) fake smiles. 

“Nope I’m fine, just a bit shocked that’s all hahaha.” Marisa laughed, and she must’ve put a bit too much effort into the laugh because Patchouli’s frown merely deepened. 

“If you don’t reciprocate my affections, I would prefer it if you just came out with it and we could go back to never looking at each other in that way again. Do not string me along.”

“Well, like you said, I’m a complete arse at times so I’m sure I’d just piss you off within a month.”

“Character flaws are transient and can be worked on with a bit of hard work and genuine willpower. You have proven to me that you have begun to change from the rough, wild, unkempt mess you once were. I can help.” Patchouli sighed. “Sometimes, all someone needs is someone they can come home to, and they can truly become a diamond.”

 

Marisa’s heart skipped a beat. Reimu had said that. Were Patchy and Reimu talking about Marisa behind her back? Had they planned this already? Who else was talking about her? What were they saying? How long would it be before Reimu slipped something about Mima? She clearly hadn’t slipped up yet. Paranoid thoughts swelled into Marisa’s head from her gut, and she felt the back of her neck start to become clammy.

 

“Ya know, diamonds are inherently worthless and their value is inherently controlled by-” Marisa broke off. Patchouli had slapped her. Angry tears had begun to bead around Patchouli’s eyes.

“Why are you deflecting? All I wanted to say was that I wanted to be your g-girlfriend. And you had to go and make this difficult. I relived my worst nightmare for you. I woke up screaming to that memory, and its aftermath, not three weeks ago, and do you want to know how long it took for Koakuma to calm me down?” Marisa did not react. She stayed stock still, her terrified heart beating in her throat. She very mich did  _ not  _ want to hear the answer- “Seven. Hours.” She hissed. Her violet eyes had brightened, and Marisa could  _ taste _ the raw magical power coursing through Patchouli’s arteries. She could feel her throat drying up, she needed to say something,  _ anything _ . “Forget it.” Patchouli pulled herself to a standing position, a foot above the ground, and floated away.

“Patchouli-” Marisa started, voice cracking, but it was too late.

_ Well.That went fantastically. Her heart, ripped into shreds, in exchange for you to go on and live your stupid life.  _

Marisa put her face in her hands, eyelids squeezing out angry tears. She still wasn’t sure where this shitty voice in the back of her head had come from, but she had a hunch one of the mushrooms she’d ingested a couple of months back had done some serious damage to her psyche.

_ Look on the bright side. Now you won’t need to worry about breaking her heart in the future, because you’ve already done it. _

The clammy feeling spread from her neck, and extended all the way down her back.

_ Look at you. One bad experience and you just shut down. It’s pathetic. _

Marisa’s breath quickened as she felt an icy grip wrap its way around her heart.

_ You could do it too you know. Imagine it. Turning Gensokyo into an ashen wasteland. Everyone who ever wronged you, rendered into dust. _

Marisa’s eyes snapped open. She was done. She jumped into the air, not even thinking about summoning her broom, and zoomed hundreds of metres in the air.

* * *

Reimu was having a great time. So much free food, and all of it was blessed. Sakuya and her fairy maids were nothing short of fantastic chefs. If she ever came into money, she was going to recruit one of them. The booze was great too, but she’d abstained from a second helping, her gut instinct told her she shouldn’t go too wild tonight, and trusting her gut instinct had gotten her far in life. So here she was, sat in one of the comfy chairs not too far away from the banquet table, just enjoying people watching.

“Everything okay, Miss Hakurei?” Koakuma had arrived from somewhere, and tilted her head towards the unoccupied half of the sofa.

“Why are you even asking, I’m not your boss,” Reimu sighed, “and I’ve been telling you for years, you are allowed to just call me Reimu. ‘Miss Hakurei’ is too stuffy for me.” Koakuma sat down, perched right on the edge of the sofa. She smiled.

“Thank you, Miss Reimu.” Reimu sighed and smirked at Koakuma’s failed attempt at informality.  Close enough. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yeah it’s great as usual, I don’t know how any of you manage to keep a normal physique when the food is so good.” Koakuma laughed at Reimu’s assessment.

“Well, somehow, we just do. It must be all the practice danmaku fights Sakuya makes us do. Gotta be fighting fit if at any time someone decides to- oh no.” Koakuma’s face dropped, and had suddenly become very pale as she was looking across the enormous hall. Reimu followed her line of sight and saw Patchouli swiftly walking in the direction of her library, posture uncharacteristically straight.

Reimu clocked what had happened at once.

“She was with Marisa. I need to talk to Patchouli.” Koakuma opened her mouth to argue. “No, it’s important I do it. I need you to try and trail Marisa.  _ Do not let her see you, _ ” She emphasised this point very clearly. “Do not use any magic to try and conceal yourself, she will pick up on it straightaway, and she can be a paranoid arse at times. Just make sure she doesn’t kill anyone, and if everything goes to shit, you come back here right away.” Koakuma turned even more pale.

“Is that possible?”

Reimu’s face turned stony.

“I hope not, but you never know with Marisa.”

So much for Reimu having a great time.

 

Marisa came to a stop about a mile above the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The actual physical feeling of being icy cold crept into her bones, to join the rest of her general emotional discomfort.

_ Go on. Do it. Kill everyone. No one will know it was you. _

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!” Marisa screamed. “YOU ARE NOTHING! I AM NOT MIMA!”

Marisa gathered up all of her magical energies, feeling every inch of her skin break into a painfully intense tingling sensation. She redirected this feeling into her hands, and loudly swore as it felt more and more as if her hands were about to explode. Just as the pain became truly unbearable, she clamped her hands over the back of her head, and the world exploded around her.

Emotions are a curious thing. They are little more than chemical signals, and yet they have so much power over us. Faith is similar, and the power of prayer is capable of manifesting physical beings into reality. Gods rise and fall based on this concept. An infusion of magic into the brain, and Marisa can do the same thing to emotion. The last hour of fear and adrenaline, of heartbreak and love, memory and magic. All of it was given physical form and literally  _ pulled _ out of Marisa’s head. 

Marisa floated there, panting. A crystalline form of emotion was in her hand, looking no more interesting than a small, translucent diamond, no more than half a gram. She pocketed the emotion-diamond, and zoomed back down to the ground. She needed to re-collect her thoughts, look at everything logically.

* * *

“Patchouli, wait.”

Reimu’s voice echoed through the otherwise deserted back corridors of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Patchouli gritted her teeth. She was  _ one  _ more damned corridor away from being able to lock out the rest of the world. She stopped but did not turn around, she did not want Reimu to see her face, covered as it was with proof of her ugly tears. She felt Reimu close the distance.

“What do you want?” Patchouli demanded, and was relieved to hear her voice stay steady.

“I know you spoke to Marisa.” Reimu said softly, in a tone that Patchouli had never heard come from the normally grumpy shrine maiden. “Something happened that upset her, and in turn, she said something to upset you.”

“What’s it to you?” Patchouli said icily, and took all of her willpower to keep a hint of venom from her voice too. “Marisa’s outside.”

“I know, but I need to talk to you. Reassure you that it wasn’t your-”

“I know it wasn’t my fault!” Patchouli shouted, whirling around to glare furiously into Reimu’s eyes, who took an instinctive step back. “Do you think I wanted to relive my nightmares today? Do you think any part of me _ wanted _ to pour my heart out? In what universe would Marisa’s response be  _ my  _ fault?”

Reimu took a deep breath. This might be harder than she thought.

“Look, I know Marisa has a thing for you, even if she didn’t consciously know it until today.”

Patchouli’s eyes narrowed.

“How… how long has this been a thing?”

Reimu looked pensive for a moment as she tried to think.

“Hmmm… it was before then… but then after  _ that _ … but then there was that other time where… uhhh, I think it’s been four or five years?”

Patchouli’s mind reeled. Four  _ years? _ But that was so long. So much of Marisa’s life, gone. Fleeting. Aging.

“But...why didn’t she say anything to me? Why did she get with all those other women- not that I mind,of course-” she added hastily, “but, why didn’t she say anything?”

“Well, like I said, I’m not sure she ever recognised it as a crush. She always talked about how she stole some, and I quote,  _ ‘wicked sick’  _ books from you, but she never read like half of them. I think to some extent your power scared her.”

“I guess I never thought of myself as scary, and just saw someone who didn’t look at me like a person.” Patchouli mused. “Her constant thievery did fuck me off to no end, though.” 

“She’s like that,” Reimu laughed, “she tried to steal from my shrine once, and then started moaning she couldn’t steal anything from me because there physically wasn’t anything to take,”

Patchouli frowned.

“I’m not sure I’d find the humour in that.” Reimu waved her hand dismissively.

“Nah, it’s just Marisa. She can be a loud dick in public, but she’s very into the idea of being a good girlfriend when she’s alone with them.”

Patchouli raised an eyebrow.

“And you know this… how?”

Reimu gave her a flat look.

“Use your imagination.” Patchouli turned faintly pink. Reimu suppressed a smirk. “Anyway, as I was saying, Marisa makes mistakes all the time, but when she recognises what she’s done, she’ll put way too much effort into fixing everything back up. But she herself is delicate. She is unsure of herself, and she’s only now becoming aware of how much irritation she caused as a kid. And she hates that.”

“She’s barely an adult as she is, and she’s incredibly oversensitive to  _ real  _ strife,” Patchouli scoffed, before catching herself. “No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what she’s gone through as a child, but from her reaction to my nightmare, she doesn’t seem like she’s had too much of a bad hand dealt in life.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s entirely accurate,” Reimu said, wearing an unreadable expression, “but there are some things in life that upset Marisa far more than you’d expect. And sometimes she lashes out, either out of anger or fear.”

Patchouli closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, and opened them again.

“Thank you for telling me this. I now understand more than I did before. I… regret storming off. The emotion of the moment hit me stronger than I was expecting it to”

“If some heated emotional moments are too much for you, you can always tell Marisa that opening your heart was too difficult. But I don’t think you’ll go for that option, you’re too determined, and besides” Reimu smiled warmly, “You two would be too cute a couple for me to let the chance slip through my fingers.”

Patchouli blinked. 

“I’m sorry,  _ what?” _

“I said, ‘you two would be a cute couple’, in plain Japanese.” Reimu repeated, grinning, “Marisa was lamenting to me just this afternoon that she wanted a cute girl to come home to.”

“Wha... but... how...” Patchouli spluttered, completely nonplussed, “But-but… But  _ I  _ said that!”

“What do you mean?” 

“I told her that maybe she’d find it easier to work on her personality flaws if she had someone to cuddle and- oh no.”  

“And now the pieces come together. She already thinks you’re cute, and if you start snogging her, and confessing that you’re into her too then that just zooms her brain into overdrive. Add a touch of her feeling weirdly responsible for everything, and a hearty dose of your nightmares, and then everything just falls apart.” Reimu sighed. “I think it’s all those mushrooms, personally, she has an addictive personality. Magic, girls, runecrafting, drugs, books, booze, food, velocity, she’s been hooked on them all. I’m not trying to manipulate you or feel sorry for her, but I need you to understand who she is, from the perspective of her oldest friend. She might put on a loud voice and a brave face, but I’ve seen her at her lowest, and I can’t always be there for her.” Reimu’s expression turned so sad, it was almost mournful. “My childhood and adolescence are ending. I have to grow up now. I need to get married and pass on the Hakurei line. I need to start a family and bring in wealth to the shrine. But I  _ want _ to be there for Marisa. I can’t move on with my life without crushing her heart, and I need to know there’ll be someone she can cry into when that happens. I love Marisa as the sister I never had, and it kills me knowing our futures have to diverge at some point in the future. There are a finite number of days when I can drop everything to visit Marisa because I haven’t seen her in a week and I’m starting to get worried. Can you do it Patchouli? Can you be the cute girl Marisa can come home to?”

Patchouli’s throat had gone dry. She nodded, the remnants of her tears still shining on her cheeks. Reimu’s warm smile returned. She held out her arms, and scooped Patchouli into a quick embrace. Barely a second, but it was firm and reassuring.

“If you ever need help and advice, you know where I am,” she whispered into Patchouli’s ear, before returning to the party.

* * *

Marisa had returned to the outer shores of the Misty Lake. Sat up on a tree, she had taken the diamond of emotion back out of her pocket and sat examining it. She was also taking a smoke of her favourite herb, and heady fumes clouded around her head. Now that she was freed of the emotional turmoil of the past hour or so, she was free to examine everything logically. No doubt with additional stimulus and discussion of the memory, she’d have to deal with feeling like a superweapon about to explode again, but for now she was fine. Literally removing emotional thought was a useful tool to escape a downward spiral, if not incredibly maladaptive. She knew what Reimu and Alice would’ve said about this spell, and it was for this reason she had never spoken of it to either of them, preferring to keep a box of her thought crystals in a heavily locked box under her bed.

So. 

Mima had thoroughly uprooted the original path of Patchouli’s life, and the former was held in absolute contempt by the latter. She had directly caused the deaths of most of Patchouli’s friends, and Marisa already knew she’d performed countless atrocities in the decades since across Europe. It was all understandable now, Patchouli’s reactions when hints that forbidden magics had been spoken of in Gensokyo. Marisa sighed. For the sake of Gensokyo, and any future friendship or possible relationship with Patchouli, she must never let slip the true extent of her power.

Relationship.

Marisa mouthed the word, feeling how her tongue and lips moved to form the word as smoke left her lungs. It was funny, when Reimu had mentioned the topic earlier, she’d just discounted it straight away,  _ just mama Reimu being overbearing as usual _ , but then Patchouli had said more or less  _ exactly  _ the same thing. Now her fear and paranoia wasn’t trying to fuck everything up, she could see it clearly. Reimu just wanted her best friend to be happy 24/7, and Patchouli wanted to get in her pants. Well, maybe not her pants yet, she couldn’t be sure. Probably not. Either way, they were both too emotional for  _ that _ just yet.

Speaking of emotional. 

She still hadn’t figured out where the nasty little voice in the back of her head had come from, or if it was even a  _ thing _ , and not some kind of weird psychological thing brought on by some combination of Mima, Stress, Drugs and/or Magic, which, on reflection, it probably was, since it always reared its ugly head whenever she was exceedingly upset about something or other. She should probably look at fixing that. 

Marisa sighed and stretched. She should probably get back to Patchouli. Make up with her. Make  _ out  _ with her. Explain things while ignoring the crux of the problem, just her style. She touched her temples with her index fingers and felt cool emotions wash back over her. And a wave of actual coolness, why the shit was it so damn  _ cold? _

She jumped out of the tree, landing on the ground with a satisfying thud. Right next to a girl with blue hair and her bare feet in the lake. Cirno. 

“Oh hey kiddo, what’s up?” Marisa asked casually, hoping Cirno had caught no wind of her breakdown. Cirno sniffed in reply. “Anyone need beating up?” Cirno did not respond, but she condensed the moisture around her hand into a small ball of ice and lobbed it across the lake. “Weeeeell, anyway-” Marisa started, not wanting to have a one-sided conversation. She turned to leave.

“What do you do when all of your friends leave you?” Cirno asked, voice hoarse.

“I’m sorry, what?” Marisa blinked.

“I said, ‘What do you do when all of your friends leave you?’ because all of my friends hate me now.”

“Oh,” Marisa scoffed, “I’m sure they don’t  _ hate  _ yo-”

“No, they do,” Cirno said dully, “they all left me in favour of some fairy clown dressed in a flag shouting about freedom. Told me that my pranks weren’t cool anymore. Haven’t seen them in any of our usual spots since. It’s been a whole week.” 

“You know what I’d do, kiddo?” Marisa said firmly. “What I’d do was beat the new leader up and assert dominance. The second Great Fairy War and all that shit.”

“Yeah,” Cirno agreed, nodding, “ _ The second Fairy War and all that shit. _ Good idea!” She leapt to her feet. “I’m gonna freeze those stupid stars off her  _ butt _ !”

Cirno zoomed into the forest, leaving Marisa chuckling to herself. Now _that_ fight could only end badly.

_ Speaking of things ending badly.  _ She thought to herself, looking across the Misty Lake and bracing herself,  _ Time to go and talk to Patchy. _

She jumped into the air, and propelled herself across the lake. Flying low. Relishing in the feeling of  _ speed _ , as she raced across the inky water. Wind rushed into her face, pushing her cheeks open. Her clothes and hair rippled around her wildly, but her hat stayed firmly on her head. Because of course it did, it was her hat.

 

She rose higher into the air as she approached the Scarlet Devil Mansion, soaring over the outer walls and the partygoers who had taken the festivities into the grounds. She landed back where she had witnessed Patchouli’s nightmare. She noticed the blanket had been taken as tears threatened to well up in her eyes again.

_ Stay strong Marisa,  _ she told herself,  _ Just find Patchy and hug it out, easy peasy. _

But was it easy peasy? What if Patchouli didn’t want to hug it out?

Marisa sighed. Only one way to find out, and if she was upset, she’d probably have retreated to the safety of her bedroom.

 

Reentering the main hall, Marisa cast a watchful eye around the room, just to make sure Patchouli hadn’t lingered. She did catch sight of Kaguya and Mokou doing… something. Were they fighting or where they flirting? Based on the weird combination of body language and animated talking, it was genuinely impossible to tell. On the whole, safe money would be that it was both. Marisa noticed someone beckoning her out of the corner of her eye, and wheeled around to face the buffet table. It was the last samosa left on the plate, and someone needed to eat it. Someone called Marisa. She charged over to the table, almost knocking over poor Lily White in the process, who had been invited for some reason.

She took a bite of the still warm samosa and her eyes fluttered shut in pure bliss. If she was not actively pursuing Patchouli to make up/out with her, she would be hunting down the maker of this samosa and aggressively flirting with them. Marisa caught her thoughts as they passed.  _ Probably a bad idea, _ she told herself,  _ don’t wanna risk it being Sakuya. _

She polished off half the samosa, and decided to save the rest for Patchy, who probably hadn’t had the chance to eat yet. And if she didn’t want to eat, Marisa had just secured an alibi for eating far more than her fair share of food.

Suddenly she felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around her chest and pull her back a step.

“Hi Reimu,” Marisa giggled, “Feeling a bit amourous tonight, are we? I thought you had a boyfriend, or are you inviting me to a threesome after all this time?”

“First of all, gross, second of all, how’d you know it was me?” asked Reimu, pouting as she released her friend.

“Duh, Reimu? Whenever you try and surprise hug me, you  _ always _ do it the same. Left arm half a second sooner, below the boobs, don’t touch the hips.”

“What? No I don-”   
“No seriously, every damn time.”

“Well, it’s not like I can’t read you like a book, either, which is why I can tell you that Patchouli is in her bedroom and if you play your cards right, one day you might be too.”

Marisa turned slightly pink, nodded once, and finished  ~~ stealing ~~ gathering the rest of the food, before turning and walking in the direction of the corridors.

“Oh and Marisa?” Reimu called, waited for her friend to turn around, before mouthing  _ say sorry. _

 

Marisa felt her nervousness rising with every step towards Patchouli’s room. Was she going to be let in? Explain her case? Get forgiven? Hug? Kiss? Fight? Argue? Marisa had never really considered the idea of Patchouli being a romantic figure in the past, even if she was as cute as a button sometimes. Marisa grinned stupidly to herself at the memory of the first time she had made Patchouli really laugh. Her heart pounded slightly faster. Then there was the time she’d broken her arm while flying sideways into the solid brick wall of Patchouli’s library. She remembered the silky soft touch of Patchouli’s fingers caressing her arm, incanting an ancient healing spell that repaired her bones without a single trace of pain.

The realisation hit her like a meteor.

She hadn’t felt goosebumps all over her because of the feeling of raw magical power. It had been  _ because a cute girl was touching her arm. _

 

“Wow Marisa, you’re a fucking idiot.” She said to herself, imagining the eye roll that Reimu would’ve subjected her to if she’d made the connection in conversation.

Way too soon, she came to a halt in front of Patchouli’s door. She gulped, aware that she hadn’t even begun to think about what she’d say. She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung inwards without a sound. She swallowed a gulp, and stepped inside.

She noticed Patchouli was sat in what was clearly her favourite armchair, face buried in a book on magical fireworks. Her side table carried a long drink and a bowl of peanuts. A reading light was focussed on her book while a gentle candlelit ambience filled the rest of the room. It looked, for all the world, that Patchouli had been sat in that spot for a year. There was just one small problem, however.

“Um, Patchy?” Marisa said, slowly. Unsure. “You do know your book is upside down, right?” 

Patchouli utterly failed to suppress her nervous giggle. She set the book aside, revealing her soft pale cheeks, which were blushing a furious scarlet.

“Um, may I?” Marisa faltered awkwardly, gesturing to the opposite armchair, Patchouli tilted her head in acceptance. Marisa sat down and placed the plate of food on the coffee table. The clatter of the plate hitting wood was the only sound in the room as the food shifted on the plate. They sat awkwardly, looking at each other for five seconds, feeling like every second was a year. Marisa noticed the slightly pushed up chest of the other mage’s dress, and a swarm of butterflies willed themselves into being in the pit of her stomach. Patchouli noticed the faint tear tracks that still streaked across Marisa’s face.

 

“I’m sorry,” they both began, in perfect unison. They both blinked, and stared into each other’s eyes. Brown irises met purple ones. A moment passed. “I didn’t mean to- stop doing that-” they both spoke the same words at the same time, and they both giggled softly.

They gazed into each others eyes for another ten seconds, and Marisa suppressed, with enormous difficulty, the urge to look down.

“Patchouli,” Marisa started, unable to keep silent any longer.

“Marisa,” Patchouli responded, unable to think of anything to say.

“I’m… I’m sorry, for making it seem like I was being careless with your emotions. I do care. About you. I just got…” Marisa hesitated, looking for the right word. “...Overwhelmed. For a moment there, I felt like I was you. I  _ was _ you. I felt all of your grief, and pain, and fear, and rage. And then, suddenly, I was me again. I just…” She held her hands in front of her eyes, clenched them into fists, and let them fall back into her lap again. “...Couldn’t adjust. I hope we can put our little… thing… behind us. The truth is, I like you too, and I think I have for ages. I’m not sure. It’s weird.” She looked down, but into her own lap. “I just wanted to tell you that I  _ do  _ care. I care lots, maybe even too much, but sometimes that care gets the better of me and it just,” Marisa put her hand through her hair to massage her scalp, “becomes explosive. I’m not usually like that, and I just want to skip back to the part where you confessed to me and I took it the right way, and then you took  _ that  _ the right way, and then we’re gazing lovingly at each other’s eyes for the next seventeen hours and-” she caught herself, “oh my god that was incredibly sappy,” she put her head in her hands in mock despair. “Please ignore anything I just said-”

 

She had been interrupted in her ramblings by those soft hands gently grasping at her wrists. Patchouli had closed their distance impossibly silently. Stood in front of Marisa’s armchair, she pulled Marisa’s hands away, letting her face fill all of Marisa’s field of view, her expression gradually became completely enraptured.

“On the contrary,” Patchouli said, gently, barely aware of her own actions. Running on autopilot. “I think that was the first time you’ve been truly honest with yourself all week.” Marisa’s mouth moved, trying to form words, but no sound came out. “Go on, try again. Say something that you’ve been wanting to say but can’t admit it to yourself. Close your eyes. Release your thoughts without inhibitions.”

 

Marisa scrunched up her brow in concentration as she thought.

“Uhh, okay,” she said, eyes shut, “Sometimes when I’m at home by myself I get lonely. This is why I’m always going outside, annoying people. But I wouldn’t need to do that if someone else was at home with me. I want you to come round my house. I want you to be my girlfriend too. I want to come home from a busy day and know that you’ll always be there formphfff-” 

 

Marisa’s words were cut off as, once again, Patchouli moved in and pressed their lips together. 

There was no hesitation, Marisa responded immediately, melting into the kiss, she raised a hand to stroke Patchouli’s impossibly soft cheeks, and felt a hand caress the back of her head in turn. She took a deep breath through her nose as she inhaled Patchouli’s scent, which, either by design or accident, was a combination of lavender, upmarket coffee, and books. Marisa had often joked that Patchouli would smell like the pleasant smell of old books, but hadn’t really expected it to be true.

Patchouli shifted slightly, and Marisa began to pull back, expecting her seventeen-point-nine seconds of heaven to be over oh-so-soon, but Patchouli pulled their heads back together, as she settled to sit across Marisa’s lap, legs hanging lazily over the arm of the chair. Patchouli felt her perception of the world fade away. The only thing that mattered, the only thing that  _ existed _ , was the human woman she was sitting on. The feel of her lips. The caress of her hands on Patchouli’s occiput. Marisa’s tongue flicked across Patchouli’s lip. She was eager to get a better feel for those soft lips. Patchouli felt a wave of shivers arc up her back at the touch. Before long, their heartbeats began to settle back into a steady rhythm, and it was honestly impossible to tell which woman was more into the situation.

After another minute of hungrily devouring each other’s faces, they broke apart. Not by much, only a centimetre or two, but they did still need to breathe, after all. 

“That was…” Patchouli whispered, intoxicated on oxytocin.

“The best kiss I have ever had, and I’ve had a lot,” Marisa finished, also whispering, ending her sentence with a quick peck on Patchouli’s lips. “When did you become so smooth and in touch with your feelings, anyway?”

“You want the honest answer? I read a book.” They both giggled at that, and kissed again. “So…” Patchouli hesitated. “Is that that? Are we…” her whisper dropped even quieter, to an almost imperceptible level. “Are we girlfriends now?”

Marisa gave her a look that was, universally, across all cultures, correctly interpreted as  _ ‘You’re hot but what you just said was so dumb I’m not even gonna respond to that verbally’ _

One more quick peck on the lips from Patchouli, and she stood back up. Marisa felt the slightest pang as she felt the weight leave her legs. She wanted to make out with Patchouli until the stars went out. She watched Patchouli stretch and scratch the back of her head as the candlelight perfectly illuminated her body.

“Oh! Patchy I brought you some food, I thought you might be hungry!” Marisa said, “Try the samosa, it’s so  _ fucking good. _ ”

“Uh-huh, and that’d explain the Marisa sized bite out of it?” Patchouli teased.

“Hey, it was literally the last one, and I wanted you to have it too!” Marisa replied, and mimed pouting.

Patchouli took a bite of the savoury snack, and instantly her face relaxed into an expression of pure joy.

“Oh. This is incredible.” she murmured, more to herself than Marisa, “Sakuya needs a payrise.”

“Ain’t it just?” Marisa said, before changing the subject, “So, uh, what do you wanna do now? You wanna go back to the party, or stay here and chat, or… uh…” she trailed off, casting a side eye at Patchouli’s bed, which went unnoticed. She didn’t want to outright say what she was thinking, she didn’t want to upset her new girlfriend already, and was unsure how to broach the subject of where she’d be sleeping.

“Oh! I tell you what!” Patchouli said excitedly, finishing off the last of the samosa, “I read some information about decorative explosion magic, we should take a look at that together!”

Marisa’s brain took a couple of seconds to catch up with the completely different train of thought.

“Ohhhh, Kaguya’s thing! Right!” Marisa rubbed her hands together, “I’d completely forgotten! One condition though,” she solemnly put one raised finger in front of her own face. “We read through it cuddled up on that,” she indicated a wide chair, just about big enough for the two of them to sit on together, if they got cosy.

Patchouli agreed eagerly and they spent several hours comfortably reading through books and books of research, before falling asleep on each other in the early hours of the morning, any previous strife quite forgotten.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am, in fact, still alive!
> 
> Turns out, actually doing full time employed work drains you in a completely different way to being in undergrad education... who knew?!  
> So very sorry to anyone who was left high and dry waiting for another update, but I hope this one made up for the wait.
> 
> I don't know how long it'll be before I get another chance to sit down and actually write a proper chapter again, but I can assure you all that it'll be fluffy and gay and all the other best things in life!
> 
> ... It's currently 1.20am and I need to be out of bed at 6.30am...
> 
> Maybe editing this now wasn't the best idea


	8. The First Day (Part 1)

Marisa awoke to a blinding light.

Disoriented, she attempted to get out of bed, but found she couldn’t move a muscle.

Something was on her. She could feel its weight pressing down on her. 

Marisa chewed her lip. She was thirsty, hungry, and her bladder was complaining of its fullness.

As her eyes got used to the light, she began to see and understand her surroundings a little better. She was in a room and the sun was shining through a window in front of her. She wasn’t at home.

She blinked.

She was in what looked to be a study. The window was clearly made to a high quality, as the upper quarter was fashioned from an elaborate pattern of stained glass. She wasn’t in a bed, she’d fallen asleep in some kind of chair. The person- it was definitely a person- laying on her was asleep. Marisa could hear their slow, deep breathing, it was oddly comforting in a way, and apparently Marisa was a comfortable pillow. 

Marisa yawned, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and fondly gazed down at the girl sleeping on her.

She saw the hair first. The long, flowing, unmistakably purple hair of Patchouli Knowledge sprawled out across both of them.

Marisa’s brain finally sparked into life as she finally remembered where she was and what had happened last night.

Remilia’s party.

The first kiss, then the second one.

Patchouli’s memory/nightmare.

Marisa’s freakout.

The conversation following.

Marisa had a  _ girlfriend _ now.

She moved her left arm, the only limb apparently functional, and gently, oh-so-gently, stroked the top of Patchouli’s head, almost as if to check if the sleeping mage was still real. In response, Patchouli’s face softened into a contented half-smile. Marisa’s heart damn near melted there and then. She sat watching her new girlfriend for a minute, watching the mage’s body rise and fall with every long breath, her face twitching ever so slightly...

As cute as Patchy was, Marisa  _ really _ needed to take care of her basic needs. She shifted in an attempt to get out of the chair.

“nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn,” Patchouli whined, even in her sleep she clearly disagreed with Marisa’s assessment on the matter. Marisa felt two arms snake around her waist, and Patchouli shifted in her sleep into a more comfortable position, now firmly clutching around Marisa, who suppressed a giggle.

_ ‘Oh my god you are so adorable’,  _ Marisa thought, as her right arm, now free to move, found its way onto Patchouli, and gently stroked the back of her head, getting another nuzzle into the side of her ribcage in response.

There was no way around it. Marisa would simply have to wait until Patchouli woke up properly, no matter how much her body complained, Patchouli was just too  _ cute _ to wake up, and, Marisa lazily looked over her shoulder to consult the gently ticking grandfather clock, to be fair, it was only nine in the morning.

_ ‘Still though…’ _ she thought, casting an eye at the plate on the coffee table, still half-covered in tasty snacks. She reached towards it. Her fingers were still several metres away, but that wasn’t a problem. She whispered an incantation under her breath, and the plate lifted itself into the air and floated towards her outstretched fingers.

“Come on… Come on…” she urged as she beckoned with her hand. The plate obeyed her instruction and came to a rest in her hand. She popped a small pastry into her mouth and her eyes rolled in bliss. They were still  _ fucking incredible _ . She savored the taste of her unconventional breakfast, every bite a new delight. She left half of the leftovers for Patchouli, just in case she wanted to finish them off.

Marisa sighed as she cast an eye around Patchouli’s- her  _ girlfriend’s _ \- room. She could very easily get used to being here. It was warm, comfy and there was no end of fascinating books that she could read. Well, most of them were fascinating. All of them were rare, but some of them were downright  _ terrifying _ . She shuddered as she caught sight of the spine of  _ Alchemy as Punishment. _ She’d read Mima’s copy of  _ that _ once, and it was the only time merely reading text had induced vomiting. She had only been ten years old at the time, and there were painfully accurate. No wonder Patchouli had a second, more secure storage of books, safe from thieves and-

Her jaw dropped.

Sat upon a shelf that seemed entirely dedicated to topics of alchemy, was one of the few books Marisa had never expected to see in her life.  _ Transcending the Eldritch: A Comprehensive Guide to Azoth Manipulation.  _

“Patchouli what the fuck?” she whispered, unable to believe her eyes. This book was hypothesised to predate the formation of the Earth itself, and even Lunarian scholars had never been able to agree on who had written the book, much less track down a fully intact copy. And yet, impossibly, it seemed like there was one right here. Marisa’s personal theory was that it was a handbook intended for whatever beings created universes. According to legend, this book had the curious ability to shift its information to whatever the reader would find most comfortable to digest. For Marisa it would read in written Japanese. Koakuma would likely see the book written in Makaian runes, while illiterate youkai like Cirno would see a picture book that actually  _ talked _ , patiently explaining everything in detail. Even this seemingly simple charm was unrecreatable to the level of precision that this book employed, and there were legends that said reading the entire book would simply delete you from reality. No corpse, no afterlife, you were simply gone.

Marisa was not a fool, she could tell that it was a dangerous book, but she just  _ had _ to take a quick peek.

She gently nudged Patchouli off of herself, ignoring the complaints of the sleeping mage, setting her to rest comfortably across the cozy chair by herself. Marisa’s heart did another backflip as she caught herself gazing at the way the morning sun illuminated Patchouli’s soft, rosy cheeks.

Marisa turned towards the book. It seemed to call to her, as if it  _ wanted _ to impart its knowledge to Marisa. She was ten paces away. Five. Three. One.

She stood there, watching the shimmering energy field that enclosed the shelf. She’d be fine, right? Patchouli had turned off the security, she could just reach out and take-

**_No_ ** **.**

She stopped, looked back behind herself, found herself gazing at Patchouli again, she had already shifted, arm outstretched and trailing to the ground, as if her subconscious was reaching out to pull her back in.

**_Betrayal_ ** **.**

If she took this book now, even took the tiniest peek, Patchouli would take it as the deepest insult. Marisa could hear her tearfully hurt words even now, ringing throughout her head.  _ I thought you were different now. I thought you chose me over my books. _ She had chosen, hadn’t she? Cast away her pursuit of knowledge, and in favour she could obtain Knowledge. Patchouli Knowledge. Marisa had never considered it before, but ‘Knowledge’ was a mighty weird surname, even for a magician.

**_Begone._ **

So she turned away from the book. She didn’t need to read it. She needed Patchy. Her new girlfriend. She needed to kiss her and cuddle her, but what she really needed, above all else, was to  _ finally _ go to the bathroom. The book had given her the freedom to do that much, at least. Truly a marvel of divine engineering. But here Marisa hesitated again. Was she allowed to use Patchy’s, or was she supposed to leave and use the guest bathroom? What was the convention? She had never gotten with someone who had a- what did they call it?  _ ‘on sweet?’ _ \- before. Marisa opted to take the safe option and navigate to the guest bathrooms.

 

Patchouli awoke with a start to the sound of her bedroom door clicking shut, as her protective wards alerted her to the fact that someone who wasn’t herself (or Koakuma) had entered or left. She didn’t need to check visually, the feeling of Marisa’s aura disappearing down the corridor at a medium-fast walking pace told her all she needed to know. She stretched and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Her eyes fell on the plate of snacks, set on the table, and was emptier than before. Patchouli smiled fondly, it seemed that Marisa had saved some for her. 

“For all her failings, she is very sweet,” Patchouli said aloud, smiling to herself. She’d woken up from such a pleasant dream, she’d gone out for a picnic with Marisa and they’d discovered a ruin dedicated to the goddess Aphrodite. Patchouli had been musing aloud on the improbability that a ruin precisely this old has been constructed in Gensokyo, when Marisa had swept Patchouli up in her arms, lifted her into a bridal carry, declared her undying love for Patchouli, and then Aphrodite herself had appeared and ?????

The dream had ended by that point, leaving Patchouli to wonder why her subconscious had cooked up that specific scenario, since it wasn’t like their first kiss was unromantic and-

_ Wait- _

_ First kiss. _

_ Oh, FUCK _ **_._ **

If Patchouli wasn’t already sitting down, her legs would’ve surely given way. The enormity of the previous day had just hit her. She’d woken up yesterday morning expecting nothing interesting to happen, but it went from joyous highs to crippling lows back to even higher highs. And then they’d spent the night together. Patchouli couldn’t help herself from cracking a smile. She’d fallen asleep against Marisa’s shoulder, and she prayed to whichever gods happened to be listening that it wouldn’t be the last time that happened.

She didn't pray too loudly though, she didn’t want any prying gods to actually  _ know _ she was in a relationship just yet.

She sighed and stretched.

“Koakuma!” she called, mentally as well as verbally, summoning her assistant from wherever she may be. 

As she waited for Koakuma’s arrival, she set about sorting the books in her bedroom. She could’ve just waved her hand and watched the books fly back to their proper places, but there was something about manually filing books that gave Patchouli a sense of peace. She stacked the books from the main library back on the table, and picked up the second stack, which consisted of the books that lived in her bedroom. She actually had three bookshelves in her room, each with their own reason for not being in the main library. The categories were; too dangerous, too rare, and too beloved. Each had their own levels of protection, and each were attuned to respond separately to attempted thievery.

As she got round to the  _ dangerous _ shelf, she noticed a change in the attunement that indicated a ward had been active recently.

Anger threatened to surge up Patchouli’s throat like magma, until she realised that only one of the wards had fired. She frowned as she recognised its magical signature. Class-Alpha basic disinterest generator. Typically cast on cooling cakes when hungry children were about. Patchouli calmed down and took a breath. Marisa had clearly just gotten up for a better look at something or other. Maybe the light had fallen on a book in a weird way, or something.

Koakuma arrived as Patchouli was mulling it over, and announced herself with an entirely overeager tone.

“Good MORNING Patchy-I mean- Miss Patchouli. I hope you had a good NIGHT sleeping with Marisa if you know what I-” she couldn’t help breaking down into childish giggles.

Patchouli’s eyebrow moved up a millimetre. She was not amused at the blatant lack of professionalism.

“Um. Koakuma. Mind explaining yourself?”

Koakuma turned as red as a beetroot.

“Oh it’s nothing really.”

“Continue.” Patchouli said, with a hint of steel in her voice.

“It’s just… well… I came in to check on you last night and… well… you were snoring in Marisa’s lap.” Patchouli’s cheeks joined the red club. She attempted to choke out a response, without success. “And by the stars, you looked so CUTE!” Koakuma’s voice rose an octave. “You were all snuggled up and- awwwwwwwww!” Koakuma rendered herself incapable of speech and started kneading her own cheeks, before proceeding to hug her own waist. Patchouli’s eyes narrowed.

“If I discover you have taken a photograph of me without my consent, I will immediately terminate your employment.” Patchouli stated, without mirth.

Koakuma gulped. She resolved to obliterate said photographs the moment she got back to her bedroom.

“No please don’t think I’d do that, I was just saying you were cute.”

“Good, because if you had, I’d march myself into Makai and make sure that your next assignment was the most boring, inconsiderate, seedy businessman you could imagine.” Koakuma gasped.

“You-you wouldn’t!” She said, pleading. “You know I hate men in suits with every cell in my body.” 

“Oh yes I would,” Patchouli replied, “And he’d be so boring, the most exciting thing he does in his life is wear his suit to bed, and he chuckles to himself,  _ ‘oh Desmond, going off on another one you absolute madman’,  _ as he watches the news at ten from the safety of his bed.”

Koakuma wailed in sheer dismay. She met Patchouli’s eyes, which had crinkled in amusement. They looked at each other for a second, before they both burst into fits of laughter. It was a nice feeling, standing there, laughing away with her demonic maid/general assistant. How long had it been since she had really felt this upbeat about life? Years? Decades? Centuries? 

“Hah… haha…” Patchouli breathed deeply, getting her laughter back under control before her lungs decided they wanted to be rebellious. “Anyway, can you stand guard outside while I shower and get dressed? I don’t want Marisa to burst in and see my naked body.” Koakuma frowned.

“I thought the whole point of getting with someone was to look at them when they were naked?” Koakuma wiggled her eyebrows. Patchouli looked scandalised at her boldness.

“Excuse me? I am quite capable of setting big relationship milestones over a prolonged length of time, I do not wish to have all of my... ‘first times’ condensed into a one-week period. I am not some human villager, that is in Marisa’s sights at six and in her pants by eight. I am a respected member of a noble family, and if it gets out that I was as quick as all the other girls, then I shall be the laughing stock of Gensokyo-” 

“Who’s the laughing stock of Gensokyo?” Marisa had arrived with impeccably awful timing, and was leaning against the still open door. “Is it me?”

Patchouli’s face somehow turned deep red and pale white at the same time.

“I- um-ah- wh- where did you go anyway?” Patchouli stammered, changing the subject.

“Oh me?” Marisa replied, “I went to the bathroom.” 

“What but,” Patchouli pointed a shaking finger to her own en-suite, “but there’s one RIGHT THERE!”

“Ah,” Marisa looked awkward and rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, “See, I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to use your toilet or not, since you’re all like, fancy and shit. Never met a girl who had her own bathroom, ya see. Thought it was safer to just use the Guest’s since… well, I’m a guest.”

“Wh-what?” Patchouli asked incredulously, looking at Koakuma for help, but Koakuma looked just as bemused as she did. “But if you’re allowed into my bedroom and we spend the night asleep on each other, of course you can use my bathroom. What’re you gonna do, steal my soap?”

Marisa’s face turned a light shade of pink as she definitely didn’t start thinking of the places Patchouli’s soap may have been recently. Nope. Not at all.

“Well, at least now I know I don’t have to walk an extra 10 minutes to piss. Would’ve been nice to beforehand,” Marisa teased and stuck her tongue out. She swaggered across Patchouli’s bedroom, coming to a stop a foot away from Patchouli. “Anyway,” her face split in an ear-to-ear grin and she swooped forward to peck Patchouli on the lips. “Mornin’ babe.” Patchouli felt the back of her neck shiver. How had this witch turned from being the most irksome pest in the entire valley to a literal saint in the space of a week? Patchouli wanted to stay with Marisa, but she was also keen to make herself smell nice if she was going to be spending more time around Marisa.

“What’re you planning on doing today? You’re welcome to stay here after Remi dismisses the other guests, if you want.” Patchouli asked, trying to keep her voice level, but giving away her waver at the last words.

Marisa grinned in response.

“Aw, I’d love to stay round today! I do need to get off home before sundown though, I need to make sure no one's stolen anything from Alice’s house while she’s been gone.”

Patchouli’s heart fluttered. A whole day. Alone. With Marisa. In the quiet of her bedroom.

She smiled.

“Soooo,” Marisa said slowly, unsure on how to proceed. “What do ya wanna do today?”

“Well, the first thing I want to do is wash and put on some fresh clothes. Then we should ummmm,” Patchouli faltered, “makeoutorsomethingIdunnoit’suptoyou.”

Marisa grinned.

“Fine by me, is it okay if I wait in here for you?” Patchouli wrung her hands and winced involuntarily, she was uncomfortable with the idea of being spied upon. “Don’t worry, I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” Marisa gave her a reassuring smile. “I’ll just sit here and chat shit about Makaian politics with Koa, won’t I Koa?”

“She will!” Koakuma nodded vigorously.

Patchouli weighed it up. On the one hand, Marisa’d promised not to spy on her, on the other hand, spying on Patchouli had been the first thing on Marisa’s mind, on the other other hand, Marisa had specifically targeted what she was concerned about. After ten seconds of mentally weighing it up, she opted to take the clean option.

“Okay,” she said, crossing her room. She gestured wordlessly at her wardrobe, and a clean set of clothes flew out to follow her into the bathroom.

“Ya know,” Marisa said, leaning back on a chair as the bathroom door clicked shut, “It’s kinda hot that she just has magic to do that.” 

“What are you talking about, don’t you do the exact same thing?” Koakuma asked, confused, as she got into the chair opposite.

“Yeah but like,” Marisa paused, “It’s like when a world renowned chef has her husband cook for her, only he’s particularly shit at it but she appreciates the gesture anyway and loves him for his attempt, even if they ended up getting takeout.”

“Soo,” Koakuma said slowly, not getting the metaphor, “Are you the chef or the shit husband?”

“Oh,” Marisa laughed, “I’m totally the shit husband. I mean have you  _ seen _ the shit Patchy can do with magic?”

“Yes,” Koakuma said, adopting a tone and speed well suited for dealing with someone who was very old and deaf, “I have been working for her, for literally  _ decades _ .” Koakuma turned pink as she realised she had been rude to Patchouli’s  _ girlfriend,  _ but Marisa was too busy laughing to notice.

“Haha, anyway,” Marisa turned serious, “don’t think that the use of marriage related metaphors means that I’m thinking about that shit just yet, and don’t take my specific denial of the matter to do some bullshit psychoanalysis on me to tell me that was what was on my mind all along, because it wasn’t. I’m just saying it was a chef thing. Metaphors and shit. I’m gonna take this relationship slowly, and it’s going to feel natural and organic and wholesome and full of life.”

“Um…” Koakuma blinked, seeming confused.

“Nah don’t give me that ‘um-I-am-confused’ shit, I know you sexy-demony-succubus types are all secretly into lovey-dovey romance and weddings and hand-holding.”

“Ummm…” Koakuma said, inwardly wondering how deep the hole Marisa was digging herself would go.

“No stop it,” Marisa said, beginning to feel the back of her neck feel damp with sweat. She fidgeted nervously. “Just because usually all of my romances last for downwards from six hours and I have thought about fooling around with almost every adult female I have met, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna do the same with Patchouli. She’s different somehow, and she’s awakened a yearning for softness in me.” Marisa leaned forwards earnestly, silently begging Koakuma to believe her.

“Ummmmm…” Koakuma continued to hum, somehow managing to keep the smile off of her face.

“Noooo stop it,” Marisa whined, feeling her mouth go dry. “Don’t make me admit to you that last night I had a dream Patchy and I went for a walk in the forest and then I was fooling around and I tripped over and cut my leg and Patchy was just suddenly on it and healed my cut and looked into my eyes and then at the same time we said ‘I love you’ for the first time. I ain’t gonna admit to that, because it didn’t happen. I don’t know if it’s love yet, I just know that Patchy is cute and that I’m gonna take her out on dates to all the restaurants that haven’t banned me yet.”

“Ummmmmmm-bwahahahaha,” Koakuma couldn’t take it anymore, and had finally cracked. “Ohhhh, I got you good there Marisa!” Marisa pouted.

“Look, using demon powers to extract a FAKE confession out of someone is bad. Fake.” Marisa stated, putting a little too much emphasis on calling it fake. “You’re mean. Shut up.”

“Oh I’m just messing with you a little, lighten up. You signed up for this when you let yourself be alone with a mischievous demon.” Koakuma grinned, and her head-wings fluttered a little. “For the record though, I’m not a sex-succubus, I am a romance-succubus, there’s a difference.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Marisa said, sheepish. A pause. “Uh, what’s the difference?”

“Well,” Koakuma sighed, “It’s like the difference between a warlock and a wizard…”

 

Thirty minutes later, Patchouli emerged from the bathroom, dressed in her normal attire, to find Koakuma explaining about all the differences between the different type of succubi.

“... and THAT is why you never offer to buy takeout for a succubus who can’t decide what to eat.” Marisa’s eyes had glazed over slightly. About twenty seconds after Koakuma finished speaking, she responded.

“OH OKAY,” Marisa said, a little too loudly, “yeah that makes perfect sense. Oh, hi Patchy!” Marisa grinned. “I see you’ve dressed up for me!”

“What are you talking about, I’m wearing my normal clothes.” Patchouli said flatly.

“And looking damn fine doing it too, Patchy!” Marisa got up. “Of course, this does mean I get to wear my normal attire too.” She snapped her fingers, and with a sound like distant thunder, Marisa’s party clothes had been replaced by her normal attire. Koakuma clapped appreciatively. Patchouli just looked faintly amused.

“Well, the first thing we should do today is go for breakfast,” Patchouli suggested, “Sakuya’s breakfasts are to die for.”

“Isn’t everything that comes out of that kitchen to die for?” Marisa asked.

“Hmmm, that’s true,” Patchouli mused, “Koa, would you kindly go and fetch my reading book from the library?”

“Why do you need- never mind, I’m off.” Koakuma left, after realising the command implicit in Patchouli’s words.

They stood there for a moment. Hearts racing, unsure what to say. 

“Uhh… Patchy?” Marisa said, bravado not forthcoming, “I know that I have a bit of a reputation as the village hoe, but you don’t gotta worry. I go slow in my relationships, when I’m out on the pull its for a different reason. We won’t do anything you don’t want, and I won’t coerce you into doing anything, either. You have my word.”

Patchouli visibly relaxed.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” she lied, and her body language was clearly betraying her, “I just didn’t know if you were expecting anything of me. Physically.” Marisa shook her head.

“Nah, I ain’t expecting anything. I just want you as you are.”

“Okay, I was just worried, I mean after the rumours about the fairy queen-”

“You mean  _ ‘true story about the fairy queen’ _ ,” Marisa boasted, before realising what she had said, and then frantically tried to backpedal, “Uhhh I mean y’know I was drunk as fuck and uh you know I wasn’t thinking straight I don’t even remember if she was hot-” Patchouli had put a hand up to interrupt Marisa’s ramblings.

“Marisa. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to justify yourself to me. While you sleeping with another girl  _ now _ would be highly… problematic, I have no qualms with the fact you are more experienced in matters of the flesh than myself. I mean, hell, I didn’t even realise I was  _ interested _ in romance until early this week. I am fully aware of the tales of your large and varied s-sexual appet-tite,” Patchouli winced as she tripped over the words, “I am not intimidated by it. I only ask that you slow down and wait for me to catch up. I am,” she hesitated, “Not used to feeling all of these feelings.” She looked away, as if embarrassed by something in her confessions.

Marisa stepped forward and picked up Patchouli’s hands in her own. Patchouli continued to look away.

“Patchy,” Marisa said gently, “Look at me.” Patchouli turned back to face Marisa, even though her heart began to thump harder and harder. “Look, you said you liked me, and I like you too. Those other girls, they didn’t make me feel what you do. A lot of ‘em, well, it was just a physical thing. You’re different. You’re like,” Marisa looked around her, trying to come up with an accurate word, “Comfy. With you I want to do all those coupley things I always dismissed as ‘boring’. Go for walks, fall asleep by the fire, chop a tree down or something, I dunno,” She shrugged, “The point is, you’re the first girl I’ve seen in years where I want more than just ‘fuck until we both literally pass out from exhaustion’, if we ever get to that point then great, if you never feel comfortable with that, then, that’s cool too.”

Patchouli had turned freshly maroon. She took a few deep breaths before she allowed herself to speak again. And when she did, her voice was shaky but otherwise steady.

“Marisa. It took me over a hundred years and an incredibly unlikely sequence of events to break the mental lock I had perpetuated myself into. Romantic thoughts were something I knew I was capable of, merely rejected. Now, sexual thoughts? Those… those are different. I yet don’t know if getting naked with you is something I’ll ever be able to do. Maybe it’ll take another hundred years. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” Marisa shrugged.

“Eh. That’s a problem for Future Marisa. The problem for Present Marisa, is the fact that she’s holding hands with a cute girl, and she desperately-” She pulled Patchouli towards herself, who stumbled. Marisa snaked her arms around Patchouli’s back, and pulled them close together. Marisa was a couple of inches taller than Patchouli, and she moved forwards to peck her girlfriends nose. “-wants a cuddle,” She finished, and Patchouli’s mouth widened into a grin. 

“You’re such a charmer, who’d have thought that this is the same Marisa that was once so tiresome that Yukari genuinely once considered having a vote on whether or not to kick you out of Gensokyo.” Marisa chuckled quietly in response.

“Yeah, and then Reimu marched to her house and demanded I have just as much right to stay here as the youkai that eat humans.”

They stood there for a moment, each of them basking of the feeling of intertwining someone else’s presence with their own. The sight of their happy faces. The feeling of warmth spreading across their arms. The gentle thrumming of their magical auras synchronising. The fact that Patchouli’s chest was  _ significantly  _ larger than Marisa’s… Marisa tried her damned hardest to  _ not _ let her eyes dip lower than Patchouli's chin, but it was hard. This new pace gave an excitement of its own, but it came with its own set of difficulties. She felt a yearning. A desire to explore. To show off her skills. To live and to love.

Marisa shook herself mentally.  _ Focus. _

The spell of the moment was broken by a loud gurgling sound. Marisa’s stomach. They both broke into giggles as they pulled apart. Marisa was slightly embarrassed, but she played it off.

“Eh, I guess we should see if there are any new delights in the dining hall, eh?” Marisa said, “We should find Kaguya too, tell her I’ll do the light show for her.” Patchouli feigned coughing. “Alright. Tell her that  _ we _ will do the light show.” Patchouli nodded in satisfaction. She was the one that had taken Marisa off of a path of impossibility and she was never going to let Marisa forget that.

They walked out of Patchouli's room, and heard the clicking sounds of the door locking itself. Marisa had already pulled herself into the air. She stood on top of her broom, knees bent slightly as if she were a surfer about to catch a wave.

“Well Patchy?” she grinned over her shoulder at the unimpressed figure still firmly on the ground. “Race ya?”

“Or instead we could  _ walk _ to the dining hall, and… hold hands?” Patchouli’s voice had gone very quiet as she near mouthed the last two words. 

Marisa got the hint, Patchouli wanted to stretch out the alone time they had together. Understandable, Marisa’s stomach had decided to put itself at the top of the list of duties today.

Marisa jumped the 4 feet back down to the floor, hitting the expensive wooden flooring with a loud thud. Patchouli winced. Remilia would not be happy if she had seen that.

“Shall we?” Marisa asked, hand outstretched towards Patchouli, who walked forwards and laced her own fingers between Marisa’s.

They set off, slightly too fast for Patchouli’s liking, partially because she didn’t want to arrive at the hall quite so soon, and also because her body was not built for so much physical exertion as a  _ brisk walk. _

All too soon, they reached the guests’ bedrooms. Patchouli swallowed nervously. She did not want to relinquish her hold on Marisa so soon, but she dreaded being found out before she was ready to announce it all.

Almost as soon as she let her hand slip away from the witch’s, and fallen back a step, a door to their left burst open, and the towering figure of an eight foot tall oni stood in the doorframe.

“Marisa.” said the deep, booming voice of Yuugi Hoshiguma, “You missed the fun part of the party.”

“Uhh did I?” Marisa responded, “The party was plenty fun when I was there,”

“Yeah, well,” Yuugi said, “Kaguya and Mokou absolutely wasted, and proceeded to get into a heated argument about who would more easily pick up girls. Very loudly. And then Kaguya proudly proclaimed herself to be the host of many… parties back in the day. Mokou damn near tried to start an orgy there and then. A shame Sakuya broke that up, I was almost considering joining,” Yuugi fixed Marisa with an amused eye. “Surprised you didn’t join in messing around, plenty of hot women that you’d never get a chance to see expose their shoulders were eyeing the, uh, ‘proceedings’.”

“Actually, Marisa wasn’t feeling well,” Patchouli interjected, “She same down with a malady of some magical origin, and I had to give her a once-over to check she wouldn’t spread anything to the other guests.”

“Uh-huh,” Yuugi said, eyebrow raised. “Took Marisa away, all to yourself, to play doctors and nurses?”

“What? I would never- how dare you!” Patchouli blustered and stormed off. Marisa just shrugged before following her down the hall. Yuugi watched them go for a moment before tutting to herself.

“Heh, I guess she thought she played that smoothly. What a fool. She is as readable as those books she clings to.”

 

Kaguya was sprawled over a sofa in the dining hall, wondering why the hourai elixir didn’t save her from the horrible effects of a hangover. She felt like an absolute mess. Her hair was straggly, her make-up had smeared across her face, and her eyes were puffy and red. A certain chill on her body told her that her dress was the only thing still on her lower half,  _ where had her undergarments gone _ ? 

The two newly attached lovebirds entered the dining room, surprised to see that it was mainly empty, save for a few partygoers passed out around the room. Patchouli observed that it was unusual for breakfast to not be ready, Marisa observed that Sanae was spooning a lamp.

“Oh hey, there’s Kaguya,” Marisa noted, “Let’s go tell her about her fireworks show!”

Marisa and Patchouli approached the sofa, and they saw a woman of overwhelming beauty flopped over that fateful sofa, where so much had changed last night. Patchouli felt the hitch of her heart skipping a beat. Was it due to the memory of the night before, or the fact that Kaguya was so absurdly attractive? A bite of icy shame rose up her throat. She turned away, and gestured to Marisa that she was going to investigate the breakfast situation. Marisa saw Patchouli make some weird hand gesture and make a hurried exit backwards for some reason.

“Hey Kaguya, you alive?” Marisa said casually, as if Kaguya wasn’t once crown princess of the moon.

“Uhhhh,” Kaguya groaned, cracking open one eye to gaze at who had spoken, “Oh, ‘sup Marisa. Gods, I feel like shit. Why doesn’t the fucking hourai elixir heal hangovers?”

“Drink a large amount of water, followed by a light vegetable soup. The water rehydrates you and the soup contains a good amount of the vitamins and nutrients that you lose when you piss. If you’re really suffering, neck an infusion of mandrake stems.”

“Yeah okay Eirin, whatever. How’d you know all that stuff, anyway?”

“Ahh,” Marisa waved her hand dismissively, “live alone in the forest, you learn how to fix yourself up. I won’t indulge you with the tale of how I learned what you can blend up to stop puking, especially since a lot of the shit I tried was actually highly toxic. Anyway,” Marisa interrupted herself seeing the queasy expression on the Lunarian’s face, “Update on the light show situation, I’ve got Patchy on board and she clued me in to an obscure theoretical approach, so I reckon we’re good to go, just gotta actually design the process and make sure it’s still safe. Making shit look cool is much more my forte than making it safe, but that should be pretty much covered now. I’ll shoot back with a demonstration spellcard when I’ve designed the display a bit more.”

“Oh cool, I look forward to it,” Kaguya sighed, leaning her head back onto the arm of the sofa. Marisa opted to leave her alone to recover.

 

Patchouli wandered into the kitchens of the Scarlet Devil Mansion, pleased to see that the fairy maids were busy at work preparing breakfast. She was surprised to see that they seemed a bit less organised than usual, and significantly less terrified. Patchouli looked around, puzzled. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a sign of Sakuya yet. She was normally charging around, throwing orders around, glaring daggers at the slightest misdemeanour. She seemed conspicuously absent this morning, but she’d clearly trained her staff well, as they were having a decent go of things anyway.

“She’s done a good job of training the staff, hasn’t she?” Patchouli heard Remilia’s voice echoing her thoughts, as the vampire entered the kitchen to stand next to her best friend.

“Oh, morning Remi, I'm surprised you're still up. Looks like the party was exhausted hours ago.”

“Yes, well, a lady must watch over her house, especially when guests are present. It's not too late for me, as long as I keep inside. I suppose you're wondering where Sakuya is?” Patchouli indicated for her to continue. “Well, after the party got a bit too inebriated and, to pardon free use of the word, horny, to function properly, Sakuya had a bit of a stress-out about controlling both the guests and the staff, so I made the executive decision that she should actually have a full eight hour sleep. So I knocked her out.” At Patchouli's aghast look she simply waved her hand dismissively. “Nah she'll be okay, she's hardy enough, and I have some of the maids looking after her. I just thought she should take it easy.” Remilia cast a watchful eye to the staff around her. Nobody seemed to be paying them the slightest attention, but she beckoned to Patchouli that they should leave the kitchen. They moved to a quiet corner of the dining room.

“Speaking of easy,” Remilia murmured, “It has come to my attention that you are now, to use the modern term, ‘going out’ with Marisa,” she shushed down Patchouli’s indignant splutter. “Now, while I am obviously very happy for you, I need to give you caution. There's something about your fates which is… odd.”

“Odd?” Patchouli frowned. She did not like Remilia reading her fate, and Remilia had respected that. Mostly. “Remi, is something about dating Marisa wrong?”

“No it's not that. Your romantic fate with Marisa gives me no disquiet. It's the ‘more-than-meets-the-eye’ of Marisa that concerns me. There's something afoot, and whenever it rears its head you need to be ready for it. No, I don't know what it is, and even if I did you wouldn't want me to tell you, and even if you did,  _ I  _ wouldn't want to tell you. Just… be safe, be ready, and beyond anything else, be happy.” Remilia put her hand on Patchouli's and smiled wistfully. Suddenly Patchouli could see how old Remilia’s spirit was, far beyond her near-childlike skin. “We've come a long way together, old friend. But whatever it is that lies in your future, I am certain it is beyond me.” Patchouli felt an uncomfortable feeling descend into the pit of her stomach. “Still though, not to worry, it’s not like I’m going anywhere any time soon.”

Patchouli sat there for a while, uncomfortable. This was not exactly how she wanted the news of her first relationship to sit with Remilia. The threat of some looming unknown on the horizon now hung over her like a cloud.

“Remi,” she began, hesitating, “While I appreciate you looking out for me-”

“You would rather I hadn’t said anything at all.” Remilia interrupted. “Yes, I assumed you would. However, it seems that I was to deliver this information, here and now. I don’t know when this weirdness of fate is due, but you’d better make sure that  _ thing _ ,” she gestured vaguely in the direction of Patchouli’s neck, “in your clavicle is ready.”

Patchouli’s hand instinctively went to her collarbone. The familiar dull ache flared up in response. Questioning.

 

When Marisa found Patchouli, the latter was sat alone at the end of the long dining table, looking concerned.

“Hey Patchy, what’s up?” she said as she approached, claiming the seat next to the librarian.

“Just thinking about things,” Patchouli mused, “Nothing special.”

“Anything you wanna share with me? I’m all ears when a cute girl wants to talk to me.” Marisa grinned, and wiggled her eyebrow imperceptibly. Patchouli blushed and looked away.

“It was just Remilia talking to me about the party,” she said, still looking out of the window, away from Marisa. “Seems you missed quite the party. Apparently Sakuya was forced to nap by Remi. Something about stressing out too much.”

“Heh. Seems like I’m not the only pest around here.” Marisa chuckled.

“Indeed, it would appear not.” Patchouli turned back to face Marisa. Her cheeks were still slightly pink. “Although apparently being a pest is somehow endearing to me.”

Marisa laughed and put her hand on Patchouli’s.

“And apparently, being a shut-in book reading  _ nerd _ is endearing to me too. Who knew? Well, helps that you’re a cutie.”

Patchouli squirmed and attempted to free her hand.

“Not here!” She hissed. “People will  _ see _ !”

“So?” asked Marisa, grinning, “what’s the problem with that? Ain’t nothing lewd or indecent about this. It’s just two grown women holding hands.”

“You know highly well no one will see it as ‘just’ holding hands, especially not when  _ you  _ are involved.” Patchouli muttered.

“Oh my gosh are you two holding hands?!” Patchouli and Marisa both jumped at the loud voice from right behind her. “Is that because you  _ love _ each other?”

Patchouli barely suppressed a squeak of surprise as she wrested control of her hand back.

“Hello Flandre,” Patchouli said,  “Shouldn’t you be going to bed right now?”

“Aw, but that means I’d have to say goodbye to my bestest friend ever!!!” Patchouli turned around curiously, and found herself face to face with the eye of a dead god planted firmly in the chest of a tall woman. Patchouli noted that she and Flandre had firmly grasped each others’ hand and raised an eyebrow.

“H-hello Miss Patchouli.” Utsuho began nervously. “Flandre has been telling me all about you. Is it true that you’re the most powerful magician in the whole galaxy? And that you made Flan’s wings?”

‘Um…” Patchouli blinked. She glanced over to Flandre, who not-so-subtly nodded eagerly. Utsuho did not notice. “Well, I  _ did _ make Flandre’s wings, which nobody had done bef-”

“See?” Flandre exclaimed, though really it was more of a bellow. “I  _ told _ you that Patchy was the coolest person ever! We should leave the lovebirds to themselves! Come on Okuu, we gotta go meet more cool people!” Flandre charged off, dragging a helpless Utsuho behind her.

“Great,” Patchouli said glumly, “now Flandre knows we’re together and she’s going to tell  _ everyone. _ ”

“Aw, lighten up Patchy. Kids that age, well, they tend to interpret sitting in the same room with someone as being in love with them. And it’s not like it’s a bit terrible secret, you just wanna announce it in a nice way to your family. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

Patchouli opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the doors to the kitchen swinging open. The fairy maids of the Scarlet Devil Mansion had at last finished their breakfast preparations, and came armed with cutlery, glasses, plates, bowls, napkins and tablecloths.

“Excuse me, Miss Patchouli,” a fairy maid squeaked as her friends began setting the table around Patchouli and Marisa, “Sorry for the delay, thank you for being patient. Food will be out soon!” Patchouli nodded in thanks.

“I don’t suppose you can bring out the blackcurrant cordial early?” she asked the maid.

“Of course, Miss Patchouli, right away!”

The maid left and returned with a plastic bottle containing some dark, purple liquid. Marisa eyed it warily.

“I don’t suppose this is the same kinda stuff you gave me the other day?” Marisa said, her tone casual, but her eyes saying ‘You ain’t gonna get that shit anywhere near me soon.’ Patchouli laughed.

“Marisa, this is one of the most popular drinks among children in the outside world. They just have different tastes to you.”

Marisa waited for Patchouli to pour herself a glass, and then picked up the bottle, gazing at the words written on it. As expected, she couldn’t read it. She uttered a simple translation spell, and the words morphed themselves into legible form.

“It says here,” Marisa said, tapping on the label. “That you’re supposed to dilute this. One part of this to seven parts water. This is only supposed to take up twelve percent of a glass.” Patchouli merely shrugged. Marisa grabbed a glass of her own, and filled it with the intended ratios of blackcurrant and water. The deep purple colour thinned out into a lighter shade. She took a sip gingerly.

“Patchouli?”

“Mmm?” Patchouli replied, humming through her drink.

“You’re such a butt, this is actually nice now.” Patchouli raised an eyebrow.

“Each to their own,” Patchouli said, slipping a hint of amusement, as if she’d just caught Marisa in an elaborate practical joke.

“You-you!” Marisa was feigning anger. “You make me drink something deliberately wrong, and then don’t even tell me!” Patchouli turned to gaze into Marisa’s eyes, eyes glinting mischievously.

“Well,” she said, “I guess you could take that as payback for all the pranks you pulled on me over the years.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting a bit too long, so I've split it into what I've written and what I have yet to finish...  
> My plan for this chapter and the next boiled down to "The girls have a nice first day together", and I hope I've sufficiently fulfilled that goal.
> 
> Anyway, 2018 was a fantastic year for me personally;  
> I finally started writing stories,  
> I played my GOTY 2018 (Celeste, go and play it if you haven't yet it's fantastic),  
> I graduated University with a BSc in Physics (somehow not my proudest achievement of the year),  
> I entered the (frankly terrifying) world of Working and doing Responsible Adult Shit,  
> I went to my second ever convention and had an absolute blast.
> 
> I hope that all of you have an equally great 2019, find something to celebrate in your life, and remember that no matter how awful outside may get, there's always stories of cute girls making out to find on the internet.
> 
> Happy New Year everyone <3


End file.
